Love, death, and what was the third thing?

Or did I just dream

A more multi-faceted philosophy.

After all

I graduated top of my class

Having learned about love and death

And maybe that other thing

Which I cannot now remember.

To be honest

I am dissatisfied with myself

Petty, fat, ungrateful, soon to be dead

And lightly mourned.

I used to want a big celebration when I died

With four white horses prancing down Main Street

An obelisk and marble urns

Wreaths of flowers and sobbing people.

I now reject

All that fuss and

Instead choose to ghost my way out of life

Unnoticed.

It’s not that I am cynical

It’s that all those mourners

Are just gloomy because they remember

That they will end up in a cardboard box too

So they cry

And tell stories about how lucky I was

To be their friend

And then they eat the canapés and leave before the speeches.

Unfortunately when you are gone

Your own philosophies

Such as they are

Get buried with you.

Love, death and

What was that other thing?

I now remember

There is no other thing.