At Thirty-Two

At thirty-two I learned the truth
That growing old is just as bad as youth.
Girls, they only used to scoff.
Nowadays they flip you off.

At thirty-two my life's a mess.
My hair fell out from too much stress.
I'm overweight, my vision's poor.
I haven't had sex since '94.

And those of us with paltry wages
Whose careers are in their downward stages
Are often forced to hide at home
From bill collectors on the phone
Who want you to repay their loan.
I murmur vague obscenities
At credit card companies.

Those who only stand and wait
Are there 'cause they can't get a date.
The last woman to go out with me
Charged a $200 fee.

The haven for the elderly
Is now a pollution-spewing factory.
The rich-relationed hometown queen
Used to be a guy named Gene.

And even if you win the game,
After tax there is no gain.
You needn't be a CPA
To see that working doesn't pay
When your empty wallet gapes at you
'Cause the deductions on your W-2
Exceed the income due
At thirty-two ...

To ugly girls I'd like to say
What are you doing Saturday?
And to people who've contracted AIDS,
Sorry, but at least you got laid.

Long ago and far away
Was not much different than today.
Growing old won't change your luck
'Cause ugly ducklings become ugly ducks.

And every night with no one there
I play a hand of solitaire,
Romancing lovers, names unknown
By breathing heavy into the phone.
I murmur vague obscenities.
They think I have Tourette's disease.
But it could be worse ...
We'll see
At thirty-three.