The Rusty Dusty of Getting Old

It appears I have hair on vacation
Expanding the glare on my head,
And skin that requires exfoliation
With a side of lingering dread.

Why the need for fluffy hear holes
When listening requires no warming?
The hair that fled my head still cajoles
In my ears where it’s currently forming.

That time I tried to shave with a fork,
Or when I thought my cat was a tree -
Or when I tried to groom a bear with a spork -
How I wish I'd remembered to flee.

They told me with age comes a well-earned awe,
So why am I reaping these tingles
While being fed with a bib through a straw
And a scratchiest case of the shingles?

I’ve countless moles and warts to boast,
And scruffy bouts of affliction
With a latest hell of espresso and toast
As a carb and caffeine addiction.

The time I injected a coffee potion,
Shat hard as an enema fail
It seems I’d crapped myself quite a commotion,
When my latte decided to bail.

Damn it all straight to Connecticut,
But don’t deprive me of Jerry or Ben.
As long there’s Chunky Monkey etiquette
I’m happy to forget where I’ve been.

So, eat your tacos but bring your Rolaids,
And remember these words of wittiness,
That ice cream and cheese are a roll of the dice
And that lactose intolerance spells shittiness.

You see, dear friends, the truth is this,
And that the trip and fall I've succumbed to
Is nothing more than an old fart diss
From a feckless, meandering Magoo.