A prized possession? I don’t want a thing
I have to guard, maintain, protect. I feel
there’s too much work in that. Inhabiting
my mind and meting theories are my real
affinities, the goods that never quit.
I’ve danced inside since I was nearly five,
and sung within since eight. To me that’s fit
activity as long as I’m alive.
Now as I venture on my final third,
while some assert entitlement to gripe,
I’m feeling optimistic, in a word.
I’m aiming, without modesty or hype,
to guard my brain from litter, noise, and chaff,
at liberty to think before I laugh.