Ron Garcia

THE OLDER I GET, THE BETTER I WAS

I joined the club that never said no, just before my sixteenth year.
The boys and I would always go wherever there was fear.
The flipside of desire was gasoline to fire.
I don't know why, just because.
The older I get, the better I was.

I loved the girls who never said no, until I drove them to it.
Every time my heart disrobed, I'd drive a dagger through it.
The bloody side of love, the fist inside the glove,
the things I heard a lover does.
The older I get, the better I was.

Mona offered me her head on a plate. I went to get two straws.
I found instead a wooden crate. I grabbed it with my claws.
Her head would not fit in, so I just bit in,
while Mona gave me wild applause.
The older I get, the better I was.

You've seen how the heart withdraws,
to wrap its savage self with laws.

Mona loved her tropical birds, and taught 'em how to talk.
She taught ‘em all the filthy words a woman can concoct.
I told her I would kiss ‘em, but Mona would not listen.
I left her with her blue macaws.
The older I get, the better I was.

You've seen how the heart withdraws,
then reappears without a cause.

So now I am a complex man, making heaven out of hell.
Every day I die by my own hand, but I don’t hurt myself.
Yes, now it’s safety first:
I watch my heart just burst on frozen memory as it thaws.
The older I get, the better I was.

...And now our collective memories blur.
The older we get, the better we were.

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