Every time I walk past the birthing clinic across the road from my lodging, I hear the cries of new born babies through the windows. Each time it reminds me of a Woody Allen poem that my 62 yr old friend introduced to me, and now i shall share it with you.
NEXT LIFE, by Woody Allen
In my next life I want to live my life backwards. You start out dead
and get that out of the way. Then you wake up in an old people's home
feeling better every day. You get kicked out for being too healthy, go
collect your pension, and then when you start work, you get a gold
watch and a party on your first day. You work for 40 years until you're
young enough to enjoy your retirement. You party, drink alcohol, and
are generally promiscuous, then you are ready for high school. You then
go to primary school, you become a kid, you play. You have no
responsibilities, you become a baby until you are born. And then you
spend your last 9 months floating in luxurious spa-like conditions with
central heating and room service on tap, larger quarters every day and
then Voila! You finish off as an orgasm!
I rest my case.)
No comments:
Post a Comment