Hello. Finish Your Will.
By Derrick C. Brown
I tried to write my will in a Miami Cubano bar with my friend Jo.
The idea sounds like a good drinking game:
Think of all your material possessions,
the t-shirts that were souvenirs of a beautiful time become rags,
the thousands of dollars of books
that will sell for 50 bucks total.
The unused knives that made you feel safe,
25 cents a piece at the estate sale.
Your worthless, desperate journals, a chuckle to your married friends.
Who will I gift this stuff that no one wants?
Who can I burden, as a last joke?
I have too much.
I tried to and stopped. I cried spring colors.
As the objects were listed
and the names were assigned,
I shook, uncontrollably.
All these people on the list
are friends.
That much love is an earthquake.
I have so much.
This poem really makes me think of a future where that friend counter on Facebook doesn't feel as rich as gold as the weight it carries when a person realizes how many of those "friends" actually made memories with you. We collect all this stuff about everyone, but in actuality what does it all mean if it isn't spent purposefully. Definitely puts things into focus and now I'm sounding like your cliché boomer (I'm actually a millennial if we are being specific here). 🤣
On a side note, this poem makes me think of the conversational and witty style that Billy Collins uses. He's a riot if not a bit pretentious when it comes to golden age thinking.