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Write Me a Eulogy
22 June 2012 22:25Hey there test pattern.
Why don’t you go join the cardboard boxes and beige nail polish over there by the copier. Why don’t you wrap yourself up in an accessible package with easy-to-follow instructions? Your brother the knowing-smile-of-confidence mask has got seven unread texts for you to semi-colon-closed-parentheses wink at. Find out if both of you can see through the conversations on repeat that cloud the air like L.A. actor’s post-mortem audition chats. See if swimming through that predictable, monotonous, mediocre, comfortable, safe algorithm keeps you from dying. I’ll willing to bet that it won’t.
Speaking of dying, write me a eulogy that I can proofread before I go and please, make it all up. Mention that I was a king once. That I saved some lives, that I spared no one love, and that I took those sharp turns quickly and in control. Say that I handed out decisions like winning cards in Vegas and brooked the consequences on my chin like a diamond hero. Imply that my conquests numbered many and that we all stayed pleasantly, flirtatiously in touch. Friend of couches, never shy around cars, doting parent, and expert at folding lasers into the shapes of neon birds.
Say that I taught cats how to read. Say that if every television station died and our world collapsed to ivy and caves again, that my smile would still warm more than any fire during winter. I want a woolly mammoth of a tribute. Give me a neck an executioner would be afraid to damage.
In return, I promise you that starting now, I’ll live up to it.
But give me the eulogy first.
tags
Why don’t you go join the cardboard boxes and beige nail polish over there by the copier. Why don’t you wrap yourself up in an accessible package with easy-to-follow instructions? Your brother the knowing-smile-of-confidence mask has got seven unread texts for you to semi-colon-closed-parentheses wink at. Find out if both of you can see through the conversations on repeat that cloud the air like L.A. actor’s post-mortem audition chats. See if swimming through that predictable, monotonous, mediocre, comfortable, safe algorithm keeps you from dying. I’ll willing to bet that it won’t.
Speaking of dying, write me a eulogy that I can proofread before I go and please, make it all up. Mention that I was a king once. That I saved some lives, that I spared no one love, and that I took those sharp turns quickly and in control. Say that I handed out decisions like winning cards in Vegas and brooked the consequences on my chin like a diamond hero. Imply that my conquests numbered many and that we all stayed pleasantly, flirtatiously in touch. Friend of couches, never shy around cars, doting parent, and expert at folding lasers into the shapes of neon birds.
Say that I taught cats how to read. Say that if every television station died and our world collapsed to ivy and caves again, that my smile would still warm more than any fire during winter. I want a woolly mammoth of a tribute. Give me a neck an executioner would be afraid to damage.
In return, I promise you that starting now, I’ll live up to it.
But give me the eulogy first.
tags