Text of the Poem
A pine box for me. I mean it. My father. 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.