You've Gotta Love Dorothy

I have a new second favorite poem. I am not a fan of poetry, especially most modern poetry which I find to be – let me be blunt – crap.

My all-time favorite poem is Robert Service's "The Cremation of Sam McGee." It's a family tradition. I can recite the whole thing, so can all seven of my sisters, at the drop of a hat.

But on our wedding anniversary each year, Tori and I go sit under a tree, drink wine, eat bread and I read her romantic poetry. "Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediment," "She walks in beauty like the night ...," "How do I love thee, let me count the ways ..."

The book I used to use is still in storage, so I went to the library last week and got a collection of classic poems. And I found a lot of the good ones. I also found this, by Dorothy Parker, and it immediately jumped to No. 2 on my list.

Indian Summer

In youth, it was a way I had,

To do my best to please,

And change, with every passing lad,

To suit his theories.

But now I know the things I know,

And do the things I do.

And if you do not like me so,

To hell, my love, with you.

You've just gotta love it.