Don't Wait Up I'm off to Hawaii, Hold my hat! He Needs More Outside World He never did poisons Like absinthe, But a corner view Gets Dickensian By a prison-brick Fireplace his keepers Don't let him use. He orbits the town green Three times a day, Dislikes the crow stares, Would like a go-free-pass To the library stacks. His single visitor Most days, who brings The fire to his belly, Isn't the Mistress Lovelace, But an anonymous mailman. Vanity The best practice after sixty Is to pass by mirrors with a shrug; As mirrors punish viewers Who expect someone younger. The Jesuit Priest He lived a double life As a clergyman And gay-nudist-activist. He was disloyal By carefree lifestyle, detested Misogynist scripture And the afterlife angel hierarchy. He paid for an Irish wake, Then had drunken friends Bury his ashes at sea. 2020, a Quatrain, After e.e. cummings Nature is kind When graves Mount the stairs And heroes die.