growing old

i want to find
someone to grow old
with, she says
to me over ice
cream cones
at the dairy queen.
oh really, you
say. like mold.
both of you growing
old together.
like two oranges
in the fridge that have
sat lumpy on one
side for too long
and now have soft
black dents in them.
yes, she says.
licking her cone.
exactly like that.
i want to grow
old like a rotted
orange. what's
wrong with you
anyway?