May Your Last Poem Be Not Poem by RIC BASTASA

may your last poem be not about me.
not about you either.
not about us, far from what i conceive it to be.
not about the world, it is as mundane as a soiled shoe.
not about the sky, it is highfalutin like your way of choosing words.
sometimes, you are somebody that i have to reread for me to really
have a glimpse of what are you all about. a broken glass. a sad tune.
a sour milk. a rotten flower. a dead bee. a butterfly wingless.

i like to say some nicer things about you. Like a flower in perfect bloom.
a caterpillar finding the perfect place to hide its cocoon.
a rainbow with both feet on the hills filled with green trees.
a south beach diet. a purse filled with coins. crisp dollar bills smelling like
lasagna pasta.

i want to say everything inside my mind without fear of censorship and reprisal. I am proclaiming my freedom from restraints. To say something
illogical and senseless and shameless.

may your last poem be not about me. may it be beyond me. beyond us.
may it be not like any other poem. melting in slow fire. shedding off.
lights shut.