For my grandchildren who can read: New Poem
For my grandchildren who can read
I am no longer in the front row for life.
I’ve got the cheaper ticket for a seat at the back,
but can’t stand up to see even a little bit
of the whole thing.
That’s why I had the ‘tat’
done on Saturday.
Black and fat on my bony, unattractive chest.
The nice tattoo man didn’t bat an eyelid
and I didn’t wince, not once,
while the gun stamped its mark on me.
I don’t want to be held up
when I want to see what’s beyond,
when I’m ready to go.
Death shouldn’t be a great achievement,
that takes forever
because nobody will take notice of the
DO NOT RESUCCIATE
Or the PTO on my flipside.
I don’t want to come back
to hear water drip, eat everything mashed.
and make impossible demands
only to watch eyes roll while they figure out
how to tell me it can’t be done.
I made this choice before you were even blips.
Life wouldn’t be a miracle for me,
If I came back after I’d died.
So make sure people look,
so I don’t.