We’ll watch black and white movies exclusively.
I will not be fat.
There will be acoustic guitar.
It will be feng shui.
I will not smoke indoors.
I promise I’ll stop doing that thing you hate.
Also, the other thing.
Two or three children—you decide—
I’ll read to them about snow, and
when they’re older, I won’t run away.
I’ll make classic mistakes,
but in your final moments, I’ll apologize.
When you’re gone, I promise to be devastated.
I will not feel relieved.
Originally published in The American Journal of Poetry