the golden years

so what do you
plan to do with your
golden years, she
asks me while throwing
another soy burger
onto the grill.
i lean back, sipping
my drink and say,
i don't know. maybe
go up to canada and
get a new hip,
i hear the healthcare
up there is so much
better than ours,
and then get on craig's
list to find a used
a metal detector.
i'm thinking that
i can scour the beaches,
looking for lost
rings and whatnot,
maybe go to some old
battlefields,
look for civil war
buttons and spent
shell casings. sounds
very exciting,
she says, as she
flips the burger.
and you, how do you
see yourself spending
your golden years, i
ask her. i don't know,
she says, maybe i'll
take up ballroom
dancing or oil painting.
i've always thought that
i had the talent
to paint. but i've always
been interested in ice
sculpture too. it just
fascinates me. wild,
i tell her, that's
some wild stuff. i saw
someone carve the entire
last supper out of ice
with a chain saw
up in toronto one winter.
the detail was amazing.
he even had sliced bread
on the table. oh really,
she says, what kind
of bread, whole wheat?
nah, probably wonder
bread, i tell her,
which makes her laugh.
hey, she says,
taking the burger off
the grill and putting it
on a bun, i lost a
watch once on the beach,
it's got my intials
on it. so if you come
across it with your metal
detector, be sure to
get it back to me. okay?
i will, i tell her.
i most certainly will.
but be sure to write down
your intitials before
you leave so that
i don't forget.