A DEATH WISH

When my full force life is over tell the dead yard tender to shelve my mundane remains with the other maniacs; the ones who lived their lives over the rim of the glass like the dark and cloudy insides of the characters I’ve enjoyed in my travels. Please remind the good people who knew me well to celebrate the creative and the ridiculous and share the memories and stories of our finest days, funniest pants-shitters, and most thoughtful idea-spinners. Let the only tears be wet crocodiles shed from honest side-splitters that fall unnoticed into another space and time. Drink and be merry with the green gusto of college freshman, and bear hug one another out of love, gratitude, and shared kinship, perhaps reflecting on why our particular tribe is important. In death celebrate the inevitable transport of our soul to the next plane of existence. Use your imagination like the best children (or if you are a grown up) three full-chamber bong hits from the funkiest, super mind-turner available to create a place of wonderment and beauty for our mutual being. The simple truth is no one confined to the fragile human form is capable of comprehending the mysteries of the universe connected to the afterlife; consider being OK with it and appreciate the capacity to ponder the question… and to the enlightened whose long-standing and cavalier propaganda wreaks of old, long shit please do not use my customary passing as a means to forward your agenda. One man’s dying wish (apologies to Chuck Bronson). by Clyde Davenport