Poem: When I turn 100

August 5, 2022

When I turn 100

After the cake, 
sprinkled with patronising remarks
She’s doing so well!  She’s so sprightly!
I shall manoeuvre myself outside,
whether with cool cockatoo-head carved stick
or wheelchair.  I shall pour a whisky (large)
and light a cigarette, my first since 1986.
How sweet it will taste, my long-lost friend,
abandoned purely for health those many years.
Maybe they’ll be illegal by then,
but there’ll still be outlaw motorcycle gangs,
willing to supply the demand of a gran
(will they ride a whisper of e-bikes then?).
I’ll suck the smoke deep into my lungs,
and anyone who moans about cancer
or emphysema will get a chuckle.
Age will free me from responsibility.
I’ll clutch my carton like a prize.

PS Cottier

Thoughts? Carrots? Sticks? Comments? Go ahead!

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