In my forties, I learned to like coffee.
In my fifties, I’ve taken up drink.
In my sixties, what vice will begin to seem nice?
It’s pretty exciting to think.
Cigarettes? Corncob pipes? Chaw and Juul pods?
By my seventies, surely a bong.
And by eighty, you know that wherever I go,
I’ll bring a few uppers along.
By the time I hit ninety, I’m hopeful
those who pegged me as square and old school
will take note of my slide and at last will decide,
Let’s read that great-grandma – she’s cool.