finally a happy poem

it's the most

common bar room boast

late in the evening

after a few too many

adult beverages.

when i die, i want to die

in my sleep

at the ripe old age

of ....fill in the blank,

after a good meal, 

great sex, and a smile

on my face.

i want a party, not a funeral

when i pass away.

i want dancing

and drinking,

and fun.

throw confetti in the air

at the end

and blow a horn, but,

so few go out

that way.

for most it's dreary

drip drip drip of another

hour, another day,

another week,

another year,

down the inevitable

drain of oblivion.

soon forgotten.

friends gone.

spending your last

few dollars

in a village of elderly

old souls.

your life sustained by a spoon

of oatmeal at the end

of the hand of a complete

stranger.

so it goes.