When I Am Old
When I am old, I'll still drink whiskey
with great big ice cubes and Italian cherries,
and I will fill the house with the smells
and sounds of onions and bell peppers
frying in hot oil, and I will wear romantic
clothing- vintage overcoats, pocket watches,
vests and bowler hats, and I will write poetry
on nice paper with fountain pens and send
them through the mail to friends I suddenly
remember, and I will not bother with politics
or pop culture or the latest fashions. I will
listen to what I have always liked at loud
volumes and only read books I have already
read, swimming in the memories of the lines,
and I will sit on a sturdy chair on my porch
and light cigarettes with the click of my
Zippo lighter, and I will own and use
a telescope and a walking stick with a
sword hidden inside. And I will have nothing
plastic in my house. I will prefer leather
and brass and linen and wood, and I will fill
long stretches of hours with crosswords and
colored pencils, photographs and cabernet.
And I will play chess out in the garden on
warm days. I will contemplate the dogwood,
and I will keep a cat, and I will make lists
of things that, when I die, you'll wonder at.
And I will try not to be difficult or worrisome.
And I will fail at that. But I will love those
around me, while mostly keeping to myself.
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