have me rolled in oats when i die,

like some mysterious recipe in the

back of your grandma’s cookbook.

a nice egg wash, panko crumbs, fried

and served sloppy at a dave & buster’s.

consider that my contribution to the world,

soft fattened meat you dip in ranch

dressing, savor the few times

i used to run 5ks in college.

what good am i but sliced meat for

the aching belly of a tiger. waste work

hours staring at falling rain. idealize

the finicky potholes of human nature.

throw me in a pot of old chicken stock.

hope i flavor up the joint.