I will celebrate the exit from this plane
in a glorious intoxication;
a night of whirling like a dervish
of broken glass and loud noise
and diving in my lovers’ arms
and mumbling in a drunken stupor.
All my friends will be there
some enemies too;
but no flowers, no parting gifts, no crying,
no wasting time on things
that never spoke to me in words
or maybe a bark or meow.
I’ll give out prophecies
for a future I won’t see
and pass along belongings.
I might even write checks
until I’m gone.
I won’t be brave, defiant or rude;
I won’t do things I’ve never done
say things I’ve never said
or try to forge alliance with the hereafter.
The only gods I want to appease
are Bacchus and Dionysus.
And I will celebrate
only what life has given me
not what it took away.