Lime Green Sleeve

I’m getting old lady skin.

I noticed while I was writing
at the bookstore.
My left elbow was propped
on the black table,
the thumb and index finger of
my left hand cupped around
my forehead at the hairline,
the flesh of my upper arm
in its short lime green sleeve pressing
against my breast.

And I saw the tiny, miniscule puckering
of pores and flesh at the slightest pressure
and my stomach turned over as
I realized how few years I have left before
my skin will wrinkle and pucker without
the pressure of my upper arm
in its short lime green sleeve pressing
against my breast.