Morning Breath

I grew older through the night,
while you snored beside me.
With your mouth open.
And in the morning breath,
I went to buy rocking chairs.
For the front porch
where we will rock out the remainder,
our youth.
The indigenous tribes of unexplored forests
don't miss us much these days.
And if ever we danced with the stars
it was only in a dream.
If only Spain were in America,
I would run with the bulls.
But that's not true.
The lie is a tornado twister,
leveling trailer parks and
houses with cars that don't run
in the driveway.