the sticker

I’m so glad
I never got around
to putting your sticker –
your very popular, instantly
recognizable, well known sticker –
on any of my instruments or
other possessions. after the
falling out we had – entirely
due to your reprehensible actions,
I might add – looking at it would
make me sick. you said
you did what you did
to me and not other people
because I would forgive you
right away, and other people might
hold a grudge. boy, you were wrong
about that. I will hold this grudge
till the end of the world
and beyond, just to prove
you wrong. fuck you, and fuck
your stupid sticker.

the consolation of philosophy

really, Boethius? just how much
consolation was philosophy
when you were waiting to be
executed? did it help?
did it stop you from
dying, or just make you feel
more philosophical
about your inevitable death?
it waits for us all, but for you
I imagine it was a bit more
urgent.

if you figured out any secrets
about how to be okay
with the fact that I’m dying,
please let me know. send me
a dream, or something. or I
could just read your book.