A pine box for me. I mean it.
For the record, friends and family,
I’d like a pyramid when I go.
A small one is fine: build it 5
out of cardboard in the backyard.
For mortar use duct tape
or school glue: nothing strong enough
to make it sturdy. I want it
to fall down a lot. Lay me in there naked 10
on the shadowed grass and,
whatever the weather,
wait outside all night.
No beer, no burgers or dancing,
no horseshoes. You may smoke. Talk quietly 15
if you must talk. Be very sad.
the wind will push the pyramid over often.
Grumble as you set it back up.
Let it be a hard night. Be bored
and edgy. Snap at each other. Yawn. 20
And just before dawn toss me and my pyramid
in the back of a pickup, drive us
to the dump, and dump us
on the tallest garbage mountain
you can find. It will be repulsive: flies 25
on my lips, old spaghetti sauce smeared
in my hair. Let it smell terrible.
Then go home. Quickly, before the cops show up
with their plastic bags and notebooks.
And on your way home, please 30
accept from me the only gift
I’ll have to give: relief
You’re not me. That even if this world
is a stagnant ditch between nothing
and nothing, you may at least 35
sip from it a little longer. Be glad,
and because I loved you,
forget me as fast as you can.