New Age

I buy too many clothes,
she said, and sipped her
drink, finding a variation
of her face
in the reflection of the cold
pond of vodka and ice.
Too many shoes. I love shoes.
I kiss too many men.
I don't sleep with them,
mind you, but kiss, just kiss.
Men love the promise
of a good kiss.
She smiled at me and let
the bartender lean over
and light her cigarette.
She crossed her legs
letting her skirt fall
slightly open and around
her thighs. I'm into yoga
now, she said and smiled
while exhaling a cloud
of smoke towards the ceiling
so as not to be rude.
I've added leafy greens
to my diet, more fiber too.
Yes, I feel good, connected
when I do yoga. She pointed
to where she thought her heart
might be. She nodded.
Sometimes I light a candle,
vanilla scented, and sit
in a lotus postion. I empty
my mind and stare at the candle
for minutes on end. She sighed.
I don't feel my age anymore.
Look at me, do I look my age?
How old do you think I am?
She put on more lipstick, then
looked at her watch.
There was still time.