Death Poem

I received a letter in the mail stating that I was cordially invited
To attend my own death. It would happen at the intersection
Of Palm and 118th, exactly 42 minutes after sunrise
On the 7th of November, 2029. I would be 44 years old.
It won’t be the cigarettes, the letter stated, but it will
Involve smoke signals.
The letter also informed me
That I should be prompt, as Death is busy, schedules
Must be kept, the world can’t slow for one asshole.
The letter came with an RSVP and a note asking
For a list of anyone I wanted to invite, up to 5 guests.
It is often a mistake to invite parents.
It is often a mistake to invite love
In any form.

I wrote down the names of the first 3 girls I thought
About kissing and did. I added Tupac’s hologram,
The saddest person living in Detroit.

—C. J. Miles