ON MY 85th BIRTHDAY

For breakfast there will be chocolate,
heaped and glossy like a race-horse,
sweating with saturated fat.

And I will devour it,
cramming in the melting mouthfuls
coating my fingers and my face

In the morning I’ll ride a motorbike
black leathers and no helmet
white hair streaming loose, a challenge

For lunch there will be crispy bacon
in white bread, with butter,
mouthwatering aroma of defiance

After my nap in the bed-shop window;
I will invite my doctor in for scones,
and lick thick clotted cream from the knife.

And in the sunset
I will ascend to heaven in a glider
singing in the eerie silence.

The next day I’ll dance barefoot in the rain
or take up smoking (inhaling deeply)
or sub-aqua diving,
or run with scissors

if I choose