Kiss Like Jagger by Linda Imbler

The night before his sex-reassignment surgery,
I kissed Mick Jagger goodbye.
(surgery deemed necessary to increase today’s
relevancy for a rock band with fifty-plus years
of formulaic riffs and moves.)
His mouth was wrinkled and stiff.
He was hesitant at first.
He said, “She (Gladys, that is) won’t let me.”
But, once I put my lips on that famous pout,
he relaxed into the kiss.
A kiss lasting but a few seconds,
brief, but thorough.
As our faces moved apart,
his eyes found their smile.

Relinquishing a 76-year old rooster’s ego won’t be easy.

Linda Imbler likes cheap wine, but expensive rock concert seats.  When not reading dime store novels and noodling on her guitar, 

she puts chicken scratches on paper with a pen, which oddly enough, turn into poems.  Her work can be found all over the place, 

but if you insist on being anal about it, check out lindaspoetryblog.blogspot.net.