in search of the fountain of youth

i stare

at one particular set

of fairly

new wrinkles around my

eyes

and with my fingers

i push hard on them,

spreading

the skin, trying to get

them back

to where they used

to be. flat and smooth.

i pull my face

back

with the heels of my

palms

to give myself that monkey

look, like the skin

of a tambourine, but

then it all, like a rubber band,

just pops back into place.

people say,

don't worry about it.

they're laugh lines,

lifelines.

the history of a life well

lived, laughter

and tears.

be proud of them.

i shake my head and sigh,

then google

face creams.