Here’s to all the books
I’ve never read
Whose titles bored me,
Or whose dialogue they said
Was dull or worse.
And here’s to all the things
I will not do before I’m dead,
To all the things that scare me
Or fill me with some kind
Of dread foreboding.
And let us not forget
The women who I will not fuck,
Whose chap-sticked lips
Will never wander down my neck
Whose fingers will not run amok.
Here’s to them all,
To the lives I’ll never live,
To the smiles I’ll never give
To strangers on the underground
Or worthy children bearing gifts.
Of all these sins absolve me
When I am dead
But most of all
Forgive me for the books I have not read.