Simple Needs

A lamb shank,
mint-garnished peas,
rice and cold beer.

I don’t ask for much
in the way of comfort.
Less and less, in fact,

the older I get.
A simple meal,
a simple kiss or two,

Neville Brothers
playing softly
in the den.  A candle,

maybe, just for the
quivering of its light
and its ability to make

a simple room interesting.
Warm, though not too warm,
and long breaks between reports

of the deaths of old friends,
though if they come
they should come regularly to make me regret

I have not stayed in touch,
to make me pick up the phone
and call around;

also, they should come often enough
to offer perspective as well
on my own mortality,

to keep me just anxious enough
to be unsatisfied and aware that I’ve not done
everything I was marked to do.

Oh, and of course — a guitar
close at hand, and someone to sing to
about these simple needs

so that what I feel
does not disappear
with the last guttering of the candle’s flame.