In the mirror, a cherry atop a sundae
back when nothing mattered and everything
swelled with verbena and creme de menthe
pillow treats in family vacation motor lodges.
The glass of the sword-less lake that pierces
my legs with too-early, soothing flows.
Shriek of happy shock and settling in.
Bare belly up reflecting sky, ears submarine
hear muffled jokes and throttles,
buzzing of flying horses.
But twenty more years, a lifetime of picnics
an epoch of shading innocence and defense
of non-tragedy.