Deborah Bacharach — On the Day I Turn 49

I am a drunken whore, which explains
the artfully ripped cleavage.
I’ve just started in on the sugar rim
lemon drop with framboise to fuel
my fabulous thighs. Last night I got a flood
of friend requests. They were looking
for anise flavored blow jobs.
I don’t really like anise, but whatever.
Sometimes I sit on the curb
like an uprooted dandelion,
a flopped fish. Dry red streaks
on my cheeks. I used to be eighteen.
Flamingos are such an unlikely color
and pose and creature on this earth.
Same with wombats and beavers.
Even sparrows.