All Women Over Forty Are Dried Up

Absurd situations amuse me; they get written into poems. Foolish generalizations about groups of people infuriate me; they also get written into poems. All Irish, all whites, all English, all red-heads, there is no all. It makes not a whit of sense. But the one thing that has gotten my goat faster than any other thing? “All women over forty are dried up.” Yes, I know. It is crazy, but I heard it. When I was forty-four, twenty-two years ago, and it still irritates me. When I think of it, which is not often, I relish in the thought that the man who used it is incarcerated now, using all kinds of other silly sayings, that probably get him whooped daily. He loved to generalize groups of people. “All men in their twenties, all Swedes, all people who wear overalls, all women who wear gloves…” I soak myself in friendly waters, not worrying about this stuff usually. Tonight I slathered my worn-out self in a luxurious lavender bath when I thought of it again. It is weird how the most random stupid things will pop into your head, irritating you at odd times.