No longer that girl

Contrasting the verse that I now pen on smiley
face topics, like leaves birds and butterflies,
slipped in a notebook, stuffed in a drawer along
with the jeans that got tight now, are dozens of
them, of decades thematic of times when I'd
"loved" with a slice of my spleen, poetry musings
on "dirtbags" I'd known, when wayward and dirty
and destined for therapy.

And once in the while I take a peek back at
that younger girl, the one in contorted
positions with "jerks" at a rest stop, overlooking
the Grand Central Parkway and wonder..

**
to where go these poems
when I'm miles past that lifetime,

to where go these poems
when I'm no longer that girl.