New year has its
self created effigy
Can just another day
change the way
I grow old
or get ****** in
by pharmaceutical chemicals?
Can the new year
Maneuver my life in such a way
That my increasing trauma
Of New patches of grey hair
Disappear?

What do I hope for?
When Trump gets it
And a scientist gives us just 10 years to live (now nine)
2017 is a number
And it pledges hope
That the new violence
Is comparatively acceptable
That man in Florida
At the baggage claim
Is a sweet man
He is not ISIS
We don’t talk of him much

Happy as one may be
The shades of grey
And the optimistic colors of
Yellows and magenta
Will repackage our emotions
And give us a trajectory
To go on
Nevertheless

A year that took Cohen away
Can’t be a good one
But the one that gave
A Nobel to Dylan
Makes me sulk
And sing
“Times, they are a changin'”