Of late I’ve started sampling old CDs
(I own a working player and a crate
of purchased music decades old). Some please
enough to keep and some are second-rate
about to go, but all induce in me
nostalgic habits corny as a joke:
there’s suddenly an urgent tendency
to stand and dance or find something to smoke.

And that’s okay, I say, but it’s a fact
that though I’m fit and not approaching death,
I’ll pay unless I move without impact,
and I’ll admit I’m often short of breath
(because of age because when young I chose
to overdo bad habits, I suppose).