When I am old I will wear flannel With bedroom slippers that do not match And I will never have any money, But through the kindness of strange friends, I will always have a glass of whiskey.
When I am old I will haunt taverns, Engage fully in the blessed androgyny of age, Wear tobacco stains on my fingers Finally put away the pen - But I will recite all my previous works For anyone who can pretend to listen.
When I am old I will let them call me Carl, Or Carol, or Rover - even though it is a dog's name. I will sit at the end of the same bar for years, A fixture more eccentric than the wall decor - But no more important. I will endear myself To young poets and musicians, Tell stories I made up and swear they are true, Look everyone straight in the eye, Stumble down hallways, refuse to use a cane Avoid hospitals at all costs, Talk to myself constantly.
When I am old I will give my personal madness Its due time in the spotlight; Let all my acquired qualities slip away, Be the person I am at 4 a.m., all the time.
When I am old I will do everything in my power To resemble a reincarnation of Hemingway, And probably fail miserably.
So stick around, comrades, and you might be lucky enough To sit next to me one day, and share a toast to love.
~CRH, August 2012 Note: Feel free to share my work but please use my name if you do.