I pull the box out from under the bed,
remove the lid and reach in to find them:
pictures of me in my prime.
Snapshots from weddings and parties,
vacations in Europe and Mexico.
Show business headshots.
Ads for sunglasses, evening clothes,
sports clubs and automobiles.

I gaze upon the taut skin, sun-bleached hair,
perfect shiny white teeth,
cheekbones that cut like a knife.

Long, lanky body lying beside a pool
in nothing but a skimpy blue speedo
pulled down slightly over the buttocks
by a hungry stylist intent on touching
blond boy flesh.

If I linger too long
I return restless and discontent
to my old man’s body—
wrinkled sagging flesh, balding head.
“I had my day,” I remind myself, hoping this
will hold at bay the grief felt for losing such splendor.