Today, I’m gonna get it right.
After the firefly show last night,
I am no longer afraid to die. 

It’s treatable. And Michael
will be fine. He got his GED last week. 

Nicest June I can remember.
It was tough putting Denver
down. What more could a dog,

or anyone, want than a good life?
There’s comfort in that. Sick

of the politics. Sick of work.
I should’ve taken an early retirement —
F it. — My perspiration drifts

from my unchained pits. My white wife
beater fits perfectly. I unleash 

every crucial skip — rings of fire.
And really, who killed my baby
but time and occurrence unforeseen?

The CVS employees don’t care.
I can skate all morning there. They get it. 

This is June, 2026, and this is how it is.
Free. America 250. My cargo khaki
shorts and UE Boom vibrating

at one, in unison, with me, my Oakleys
and Rage Against the Machine. 

Rally ‘round the family, indeed.
Dang. I forgot to queue the new
Phoebe. She just gets me. 

But I can vibe with Al Green.
At every corner of this wide circle

I become nearer to the center,
the truth, of it. I thumb the volume
button and mash like Morse. UP!

UP! UP! I fly over the white lines —
Untethered, arbitrary. I’m gray. 

I’m 56 today, a father. I’m the truth.
I am eternal youth. I am all.
I will not wait on another Fall!

Glisten, chain! Glisten, O my Soul!
Glisten today and skip with me!