I’d really hoped you faked your death
since I’m not finished waiting for you to do something
awesome and unpredictable. Except
what could top the spectacle of your death?
Your wife still forges your signature when
she writes poems on the back of your SSA checks
and the dye from your wreath has stained
your stone, but the river always runs blue in this pouring rain
It is hard to find a reason to sleep now
things are so awesome and so predictable
Except for the collections I have to sell
and now the dog’s teeth are all blue as well
As it happens your radio wasn’t actually broken
it was just tuned to the laughtrack of the damned
But who else will care that your money’s well
spent, or that I am drunk as hell?