expectations

there’s only three
things I want
to do
before I die:

I want to be with
a girl who’s nuts for
me
who’d die for
me,
and I want to feel
nothing.

absolutely
nothing
at all.
I’ve never had
that.

I want
to write a
novel,
a thousand-page-long
novel,
with nothing
on any of the
pages.

I want it to be
a New York Times
Bestseller,
and I want
to just
laugh it off.

I want to get
old in a
run-down bar
drink gin,
straight,
talk to young couples
about my late wife,
or if I don’t get around
to it,
I’ll tell them
I could never find
her.

if I could give them
some advice,
I would tell them
nothing,
I’d just drink
they’d listen
since then
I’d be wise
and all who’d say otherwise
will be long dead.


just maybe
we’ll have a good time.

I’ve never had any
of those.

it may be farfetched,
but,
like most of us,
I don’t expect
to die
completely
satisfied.