It’s amazing how old some people can get

before they even begin to realize

they’re going to have to die one day too as if

no-one had ever made it perfectly clear

the stuff about dying wasn’t just a threat.
I say that like I’d plied the Styx on a skiff

like my death was some sort of exotic fruit

ripening deep in the hothouse of my being

but how will having gone on about it help

when my body is definitively stiff?
It’s amazing how long you can go between

drinks I mean those moments when it’s clear as gin

that after all you’re not completely dead yet

there’s a survivor buried in you somewhere

I say all this like my life was pure routine.