The Beginning of How We Started Dying

I was praying to Santa, who has never

recognized my birthday, which could

explain why this year I received a copy

of the Oblivion Social Register

and a used pop-up turkey timer, both

of which I now use as ballast as I bob

in a giant pot, cannibal-dinner style.

As it says on my tombstone,

LAZY BUT FUNNY.

Add me to the list

of almost notable homos who passed

on the South Pole—I elsewise go

where I am called upon to edit

down the news. I’ll have to order

a bigger box for all my drugs,

but hurry, the last boat leaves

on the hour.

I’ve started praying

for something excellent next year,

which I’ll never get if I say what it is.