with your carbon-copy progeny,
you look like you stepped out
of a jeans commercial, still.

freckling for all you are worth,
your dazzling close-up smile
hides the ills of twenty years.

my memory of you, wine-soaked,
out-of-bounds. that you were.
you are perfect for the beach.

but, you know, i guess if mine
was a furniture-catalog family,
i would put us on display, too.