05/28/2024
When life
became
a series of
exit plans,
that's when
your final traces
vanished
at once.
It was no longer
vague hallucinations—
far from it.
Your very notion
blended with
everyday furniture.
You didn't vanish
so much as
subsume
all vacancies,
every possible one.
I'm good at
holding court now,
did you hear?
The Gift of Gab
was given
to me
at quarter-life.
The chatter box
papers cracks,
but wonderfully.
I'll invite you
to the after party,
and the after-after party.
I staged them both for you.