party hats for absences 

are you going to the hole in the ozone?
i heard everyone is going to not be there tonight
& we are going to spend all our time asking,
"where is so and so?" i have sometimes 
removed my self from the world
like a smudge. other times, like a parasite.
what do you love to take? what do you love
to not be there for? i don't want to be there
when the fire finally reaches us. 
i want to be a skeleton in a museum of 
frogs by that point. i sometimes celebrate
all the ways i am already gone. i dig graves 
everywhere i sleep. crawl into the dirt 
& listen to the prophecies of worms.
they say we are all making good tv. 
has a hole ever opened in the ceiling for you
just like an old mouth? i feed it gummy sharks.
fire extinguishers need to be handy & so
do pocket knives. gut the fish they said.
it will be a meal they said. instead 
all i get from the fish are shoes. the celebrations
of missed gatherings are my favortie.
when someone apologizes & says,
"actually my face is full of gills tonight"
i rejoice. i say, "mine is too" even if 
it is not. a lie is sometimes actually 
both of its meanings at once. lie down. 
lie to yourself. a leak in the moon means 
by next year there will be no more milk.
we have to make the most of what we have.
no one else shows up. i sigh & leave
my telephone number on the wall
of the bathroom with a note that reads,
"will you call me even though 
i cannot promise anything?"