I miss the innocence of youth
when I was convinced you could
step off a falling elevator just
before it hit the ground.
I knew that Elvis was dead –
any sane person thought that –
but Bruce Lee was somewhere alive
planning his comeback.
I miss arguments about who
was the best Angel – Kate Jackson
of course, followed by overlooked
Shelly Hack – and what the heck was
that goo inside Stretch Armstrong.
Something happened when I got old,
I am persuaded it was not for
the better; I still want to believe
that Steve Austin fought Bigfoot –
the Colonel, not the pansy “Stone Cold.”
I willingly admit, Linda Carter’s legit,
and I wasn’t watching for her jet.
Though I am now a grown man, I will never concede
that Gornar is not still plotting revenge.