Here at home 
with the greats 
knowing full well what they 
did at my age 

wondering why I didn’t 
marry rich 
yet I got a pickle 
in my sandwich 

got moments still my own 
if only to touch not to hold 
an interior life keeping on the light 
decades riding that foam mattress 

looking out 
to a distant bridge 
reading a book 
maybe I’ll see you soon 

and we’ll talk about the greats 
their ideas illuminate our days 
then we’ll try our hand at it 
holding onto a tiny wish