Gravity

It's been your friend all your life. Brings your ball back. Gives you a place to land. Helps the gal get into that guy's lap. You can depend on gravity, it will never let you down. Every single time you toss an egg up into the air it'll come back down on your stupid friend who actually believed that you would all stand there until the egg comes back down. It's like the sun rising, the wind blowing, the bum begging. It's going to happen and you know it. It's part of the world. It'll never go away.

But, young people, gravity is not your friend.

The older we are the more we're forced to realize that this insidious sneaky force may even be a sinister enemy. With the passing years you'll notice that this gravity monster is relentless. It pulls you as it once did your ball. It constantly sucks at you, taking your pieces and stretching them nearer and nearer toward its hungry tongue.
Then you discover. Too late. That it's been a war since those uneasy years when you suddenly became no longer young. That nasty force of melting youth keeps pulling and stretching and wrinkling at your skin and arms and butt and under-chin and all those places where we sure don't like but we look old. It creates concern about spots on the bod that you've never had thoughts about before. Places that sag on their journey into the invitation of gravity.

It has a goal.
It wants you. Wants to return you. Wants you back in the dust. Keeps pulling and bending the weakened shoulders of our eldest as it coaxes them back into the ground. There are certain parts of our bodies that used to be enjoyable that're now just in the way. People think this is inevitable, that it's the way things are, that it's life. But it's not.

I'v written to tell you that gravity is only a temporary thing. It's only an earthly thing. On the moon there is little gravity. Balls don't return. Sags are no concern. It's a good bet that we don't even grow old. Mars too. Space is the salvation of the bent and wrinkled.

That's what I'm going to do for my retirement. I'll invite all my friends and a lot of other old farts to come with me; up the escalator that I'll build which goes to the moon. Up to the non-sag, non-wrinkle dawning of older age. We'll get up there where even old boobs will be perky. Where underchins stay up and butts stay pretty. Where gravity is no longer king.

Follow me into the world of infinite youth. To space where we can finally escape this dastardly devil of depravity, gravity.