Old

When I am old I will wear bold prints,
Or perhaps a red pleather coat with golden shoes.
I might adorn a simple black dress with macramé and beads of many colors.
And dye my eyebrows the deepest muddy brown.

When I am old I will speak loudly and out of turn.
I will fall asleep upright in chairs and ramble on with no one listening.
I will adorn my bony fingers with giant shards of costume glass
And coif my blue-tinged hair with careful hand.

When I am old I will shuffle my feet
And get up slowly from my chair. I will dress to the hilt and
Always wear colored hose with sandals. I will murmur often.

When I am old I will always get my money’s worth and dine
Exuberantly at the table of snacks. I will even take some home in my purse.
I will be nosy and always have an anecdote about a grandkid,
And dig relentlessly for connections.

When I am old I will think that a short trip across town is as amazing
As man walking on the moon. But maybe on both counts I’ll be right.
I will eat the cake AND the brownies with icing.
I will know that the elevators won’t arrive until long after I am gone.
And I will be finally comfortable enough to simply be.