Tired of weight loss and language acquisition, bored with exercise and more time with the family, uninterested in pottery or better oral care, I've made a new list of resolutions whose success seems as likely as those aforementioned.
This year I resolve to yodel.
Loud and long from Manhattan
to the Matterhorn, I will sing my
mountainous mating song.
This year I resolve to herd cattle.
On a spotted roan sway-back I will
corral dogies from the wild plains
of my city apartment to suitable
and moneyed ranch men
This year I resolve to win a Grammy.
As I take the stage and golden
phonograph I will hold it high
thanking only the New Year for
its endless support and encouragement.
This year I resolve to cast the first
stone, unapologetically and with a
pitcher's authority. I will use it to break
your glass houses and to kill your two birds.
This year I resolve to cure cancer
and AIDS and homosexuality and alcoholism
and insomnia and egoism and apathy
and poverty and peanut allergies.
This year I resolve to end war.
This year I resolve to recycle peace.
This year I resolve to fix us.
This year I resolve to break us again.
This year I resolve to hold this year
like a grape, pull off its sour skin with my teeth
and leave its tasteless meat in the bowl.