I want a receding hairline.
Screw having a perfect smile, broad shoulders, or shaggy hair.
I don't want a Ferrari, a trust fund, an Honors Degree,
a Cosby family, or a Marsha daughter and a Pleasantville wife.
I don't want a designer house with a stadium seated surround sound HD theater
and a perfectly manicured lawn — crosshatch cut — that's green year-round.
I don't want a condo at Ocean Isle, a magazine cover,
a Twilight romance, or a library full of worn books.
I don't care for having my name in lights,
understanding quantum physics or C.S. Lewis,
or knowing every single line, of every single one, of Shakespeare's plays.
Especially Hamlet, where I know the stage directions as well.
What I do want is wrinkles and thick glasses, a used Chevy Malibu,
a split level ranch, a Motel 6 vacation, to sing in the wrong key in the shower,
to tell my kids “Yes, I am sure there are nine planets,”
and to be able to rap — word for word — every. Single. Tupac song.
What I do want is a receding hairline and a confidence in You,
where I worry about less and enjoy the little things.
I like it. The title was misleading :) And the Tupac thing was surprising. I really really like the last line of the first stanza. Not sure if you meant Cosby, instead of Crosby. Great ending to it all though, last two lines were simple and fantastic.
ReplyDeleteToo much Sports Center is probably the reason I wrote Crosby. And c'mon Jamie! You know my titles generally are a stretch.
ReplyDeleteIs this a pomplamoose reference?
ReplyDelete