When I have finally grown up all the way

When I have finally grown up all the way,
enough so I can actually admit to all the things I really want
without embarrassment or any need to explain,
I will take a big old bag of yummy trail mix
out on the trail with me up in the mountains somewhere—
but probably a park and not an actual mountain away from trails and stuff
because what with the yummy trail mix and my advanced age
I would be afraid of not outpacing the bears that come foraging
for my jellied mango nips and my dried banana chips—
but a proper bear-free park, red-or-bluestone maybe
something short of yellow, anyway, and I would walk
a long way in then sit on some cleared bug-free earth and
eat and eat and eat my trail mix all sloppy like
and—oh!—my fly would be open and all the yummy goodness of the trail
would heap up in my trousers and the chipmunks and the pine martens
and the deer and the squirrels and all the cute and fuzzy creatures would come
and move into my pants and I would take a lot of pictures and get
myself declared a nature preserve and apply for federal funds which
would be forthcoming lickety split
and I could take this federal money and go clubbing
and the girls would all be fascinated by my moving, writhing lap
and they wouldn’t be able to keep themselves from asking about it
and I would tell them all about the trail mix right up through the chipmunks
and they would take me right to bed and be completely charmed and enchanted
because who doesn’t like Chip and Dale?
And I will sing a jingle:

Come and take a luxuriant nap
On my federally protected lap
And I will be as steadfast as Vanna White
And keep my lap open for you all night*

—Don Whittington

*for a modest fee


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