Said I’d do sixty new things in my sixtieth year
and now with eight months gone the claim has
become a burden as I dull as dull cannot even
imagine any sixty things new to me or rather
sixty in my price range. But oh!
If money were no object!
Parasailing, transAtlantic cruise
painting class in Paris, cooking in Italy
yoga in India, samba in Spain.
Sleep in a treehouse, a lighthouse
rent a convertible, drive the coastal highway
Fashion Week in New York, in Paris.
Mardi Gras in New Orleans, Carnaval in Brazil
raft right through the Grand Canyon
Thai food in Thailand, Vietnamese in Vietnam
sleep on the beach at Cape Cod, no, Tahiti
frolic nude on beaches, clothed on dance floors.
Alternatively here I am watching two
goldfinches zoom and dart amidst the redbuds
having what looks like the time of their lives.