JOHN:            Nature ain’t half as cruel as we imagine.  Sends our looks and faculties packing, true – but also our power to see and translate the change.  My brain and hairline can fly off into the sunrise together, for all I care.


APRIL:           But there must be advantages to aging.  Wisdom, for instance?


JOHN:            The old do know everything.  They just can’t remember it.


APRIL:           All one can hope for, I suppose, is to age gracefully.


JOHN:            In time, you’ll find that aging disgracefully is much more fun.  I still remember the day it struck me – that vice is nothing more than a virtue waiting to be discovered.  Suddenly, I felt like Marco Polo.


APRIL:           Here’s a role model.


JOHN:            Life became the Swiss account into which I left my follies to ripen, as a source of quiet amusement in my golden years.


APRIL:           Actually, it’s pronounced “no-to-ri-e-ty.” A few of us prefer to live honestly.  No room for any skeletons in the closet.


JOHN:            Oh, I don’t mind them.  But if they unionize, I’m ruined.


APRIL:           [Tittering.] I love you, Granddad.


*This was an outtake of my 2010 poetry/art book Plum Stuff, a sample of which can be viewed here.