Not only is it a nifty calibre for a handgun, but . . .

 . . . 38 is also my age as of today.  I've crested now: am more than half my father's age for the first time in my life (but still the exact same age as my twin sister).  As a little self-indulgent autopresent, and to keep this blog wheezing along, I throw down with creaky arthritic fingers my favorite self-composed poem, see.  So, see.

christen, with cigarette kisses,
me, unchristly gallant glowering out
my window to black wonder--
and hey while you're at it
toss me that Wild Turkey--
got words to waste
with that old benighted bird
or any other in his liquid flock--
got threats to taste
and memories to pound into
disconnected molecules . . .

as brutally usual as possible