for Dickie

Because I said to you today, without hesitation,
watching big wave surfers from our lanai high
over Hanalei Bay, In my next life, I’m gonna surf,

which reminded me that, having completed
six decades on the planet, there are some things
I still want to do but am not brave enough to attempt,

and that I have begun to also say, not at my age,
which says I’m beginning to think like an old person
instead of a merely cautious one, which I’ve been

mostly in this lifetime. And that stopped me.
Because at 60 I don’t want to think like an old person—
you don’t, and you’re 75, though you are cautious, too,

but willing to experience new things, maybe thinking
about your own next act. This morning, eating breakfast
on the lanai, watching the surfers, you said, In your next life,

 you and your sister can be out there in your bikinis,
and I said, Sure, but where will you be? And then I
answered my own question: You’ll be the lifeguard

 on the beach—and you liked that—the one
looking out, watching over me, just as you’ve
done in this lucky, lovely lifetime of ours.

jan haag 1/11/19
(four days before Dick’s cardiac arrest and resurrection at the Honolulu Airport)