The I'm Still Relatively Young Poem

I’m still relatively young.
I’ve yet to have a heart attack,
though friends would only be
moderately surprised if I did.
I have a career,
but who’s to say I can’t
switch horses in midstream?
(Bob Dylan, maybe.)
Married? Kids? Checkity-check.
Are my wife and I done having them?
Definitely probably not sure no.
Unlimited future?
Existentialism is best left
to the youth of today.
Do I fear the youth?
Only relatively.

The What Follows Rejection Poem

Sunshine avoids me today,
but the coffee grinder
asks if I can come out to play.
So I do.
But it is no toy
and now my finger is bleeding.
Clearly I am without a clue
my friend says,
sewing my fingertip back on.
I flex the digit repeatedly —
good as new.
I thank her for kindness,
her timing,
and, most of all,
for offering me that
thing no less practical
than a screwdriver.