I meant to put those
sixty-three names
and email addresses
in the BCC blind copy
space, not the CC
copy space. I meant to
send it to him, not her.
I meant to swallow not
drool, on the computer,
my lap, your sleeve, my
arm, the floor, that first
edition, in the drawer.
I meant to walk and
move with that feline
grace someone once
said I had, not wobble
and stagger like an
old wino. I meant to
hit the “y” not the “t”
the “h” not the “g”
the “b” not the “v”,
return not send,
amends not amen.
I meant to stand up
straight not bend, to
sit upright not slouch,
to not fall down and
get stuck between the
couch and a hot pipe
that burned my back
like the prolonged
sting of a fierce slap.
I meant to stay twenty-
nine or forty-nine, not
be seventy-nine turn-
ing eighty in May this
way, drooling and
stumbling and un-
able to make a fist
with my right hand
or grasp a utensil in
the proper way but
instead need foam
additions to the
handles for my one
or two fingers that
can still curl without
help. I meant to be
the exception to
obviously aging or
a long gone legend
by now not a bent
over drooling old
man who still often
feels like a woman
inside but I’ll accept
what I’m left with for
as long as I can and
still be grateful for all
that I’ve been and am.
C) 2021 Michael Lally
“I meant to be / the exception.” Full stop.
Posted by: Anne Harding Woodworth | January 08, 2022 at 07:13 AM
Oh, I like this poem -- I want to share it to my Facebook page. In fact, I will. Who's going to stop me?
Posted by: Suzanne Lummis | January 08, 2022 at 07:55 AM
I love this poem, quintessential Lally.
Posted by: Terence Winch | January 08, 2022 at 08:34 AM
Nichael Lally you have written the future but you survive, even thrive despite the evidence in your testimony. Fine poem. Indran Amirthanayagam (Editor, publisher www.beltwayeditions.com)
Posted by: Indran Amirthanayagam | January 08, 2022 at 08:55 AM
Dear Michael, It's been a long time since I've seen you, but if you still look like that photo, you're doing fine. Charming cry in the face of againg and death.
Posted by: David Schloss | January 08, 2022 at 09:53 AM
I loved hearing this read by Michael, himself, at the Michael fete. I'll share with our poetry group who will be studying The Lally "COLLECTED POEMS" next month.
Posted by: Grace Cavalieri | January 08, 2022 at 09:58 AM
Terrific poem!
Posted by: Simon Schuchat | January 08, 2022 at 11:02 AM
This is a beautiful poem Michael! It is brave and poignant, like all your work, and at the same, again like all your work, you let your musicality take the guiding role; you turn lament into song. Thanks and bravo!
Posted by: Vincent Katz | January 08, 2022 at 11:44 AM
thanks for the generous comments, and as for the photo, if only
Posted by: lally | January 08, 2022 at 11:49 AM
As usual, Michael, you rock the page. Thanks!
Posted by: David Beaudouin | January 08, 2022 at 12:06 PM
So good. Classic 'Lal.
Posted by: Michael O'Keefe | January 08, 2022 at 12:20 PM
Oh. As Ab octogenerianette I really relate. I love ally’s work and I love this poem.the latter feels almost like loving myself.
Posted by: Clarinda harriss | January 08, 2022 at 01:29 PM
So there you are... I remember Iowa City, 1979. So long ago...
Posted by: Elaine M Johnson | January 08, 2022 at 01:30 PM
What a great poem! It swings with feline grace!
Posted by: Chris Mason | January 08, 2022 at 02:01 PM
Man, brings me back to those Catholic days: "through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault..." Great Confiteor of aging, Michael Lally. (Yet undaunted.)
Posted by: Gerald Fleming | January 08, 2022 at 02:02 PM
Wry, generous, and sweet, a wonderful poem.
Posted by: Summer Brenner | January 08, 2022 at 02:14 PM
Another fine Lally guide to living, with swing in its step. Love!
Posted by: Beth Joselow | January 08, 2022 at 02:45 PM
Michael Lally… I always knew you were exceptional as a person when we first met… I have always known that you stood apart from the herd. I want to take this time to tell you that you matter to me… you count… you are missed… and… you are loved!🥺❤️🙏 Happy New Year! 🎆🎈🎉🎊🥳Dona
Posted by: Dona Pinger | January 08, 2022 at 07:33 PM
Ahhh…. Michael…. How very much I L♥️Ve you - as you are… who you are…
And how very much you show me me…. and how much I have to learn from you in the Graciousness of Living….
My Heart 💜 and Soul thank you more than I have words for/know words to say.
You Live in My Heart ♥️
Posted by: Mim Kohn | January 08, 2022 at 08:16 PM
You did, you are, no matter what you say or how you feel….you achieved the exception. In spite of… everything. Made it look like falling out of a chair while growing into a man.
Posted by: Michael Harris | January 08, 2022 at 10:57 PM
wow, you're all too kind, but thanks for all the love, which is always the answer for me to whatever quandary I'm facing, not so much getting it as giving it
Posted by: lally | January 09, 2022 at 01:12 PM
Wonderful poem—great movement, fullest heart, tautness, wisdom. Life loves this poem for its capacity to show us a new, full-throttle take on how and what we do here on earth. I wish I’d heard Michael read it!
Posted by: Don Berger | January 09, 2022 at 01:17 PM
Exactly!
Posted by: Mindy Fullilove | January 09, 2022 at 04:57 PM
Michael, the crowd is roaring! whyn't you post a reading of "I Meant To" someplace so we can get it up close and personal?
Big Love
Posted by: Bob Holman | January 09, 2022 at 05:18 PM
Sense of humor supreme. Laughter is the only stone that dulls the edge of the scythe.
Posted by: DALE HERD | January 09, 2022 at 05:21 PM