My Way
I saw the three tenors sing “I did it my way” mind, the fat one died,
and the two others hate each other and never appear in public if
they can avoid it. Of the two one looks like an aging matinée idol
the other suffers from being mobbed at school  and looks scared
has nightmares and takes to tears before going on stage.


I still like Frank Sinatra's rendition of that song better he sang
it so relaxed with a clear diction and  made me think of a man
with a six pack ambling on his way home  he too is dead to
“My Way” is about human hubris we think we are masters of our
destiny when we are leaves blowing along a wet asphalted road
in the autumnal half-light.  

Thinking back- I can afford to- I never got a thing my way which when
young caused me bitterness the highest prize eluded me kismet knew
I could not handle illustriousness it would have made me look absurd
a swaggering fool hated by colleagues, on the stage of life. Yet, when
dancing the tango at a nightclub in Buenos Aires 54 years ago the applause
I received still rings sweetly in my ears.