I wanna meet a millionaire on BART
(for certain that’s a prize I won’t obtain).
Attractive, tall and well beyond the start
of Medicare, he’ll choose to ride the train
because he hates to drive on crazy roads,
who walks in beauty, dwells where he esteems
topography and weather, loves the goads
to learning: that’s the partner of my dreams.
But I don’t look for him. He isn’t there.
I know because I’m sure if I were he,
I’d either want existence solitaire,
or someone home who’s softer company
than I can offer even now I’m old.
My fate is spun. My future’s single-souled.