The clock is about to strike 12
And you think of all the possibilities
Of the reductionist in you, who will boast
Of keeping a resolution till February
And that’s about how long a resolution lasts.
Before getting marriage, it is usually
Not to watch porn, and then you realize
After you get married, it’s the same old thing,
How not to fantasize about
All the things your wife doesn’t allow
In the bedroom.
And still on the way back
From the 31st night ball, we dropped in
At a church, to say a little prayer
To be Jack Rabbit in bed – to make a baby
When Jack the Ripper will visit
You a little earlier than usual
But you know fact from myth
– At 40, the hangover and the hungover
Takes at least 12 hours
And you only have that many chances
With the falling eggs –
And this year, we will become fools
In love, hoping to deprive ourselves
From a good night’s sleep, how to have
Bags in your eyes and long-night vigils, how to
Clean poop from a little diaper
And how to make our lives a little hell
– It seems I’m the devil’s advocate here –
A child, who will suckle her breast
And your little finger, who will make
Little excursions through drainage systems,
Who will cry for no reason, just because
That’s in her mission statement,
And yet, all those times you stay up
Watching her sleep, all the times
You let her hold your second finger in her clutch,
All the times she smiles simply because she can,
And all the times, you marvel
At how she looks like your wife
The woman who made a canvas of loneliness
A priced painting with worth, it makes it all worthwhile.
And 2017, will begin with a resolution,
To make a little package, a deliverable,
Maple irises that are ferried across
From my wife and looks at you
With an unheralded sweetness. Yet, perhaps
By February, there will be no pink strips
Nor avalanches of emotions, perhaps
It will be just another broken resolution
That will haunt you in retrospect
And resolutions are that. They are
Just larger than life hopes that fall short
The fireworks that blitz and die
The unconstructed road
The diapers on the shop window
And all we have is our love
To chase away the ghosts
Of a flunked resolution
And when February comes
The clock will stop and we will look
At the biological hourglass sneaking away sand
And tell ourselves, perhaps we are not meant to be!
And we will still be together
Year after year, travelling to exotic places
And phasing out the impracticality of making love
Perhaps I was never meant
To be Jack Rabbit. Just a Jackass
Who will adore spending the rest of his days
With one woman.
I will always be a fool,
A fool with an unbroken resolution
– To love.

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