Life is loss
nothing more
nothing less

It strips you of
that phantom
the well-tended self

sells your memories
on the street
for pennies

leaves your old worn shoes
in the entryway
as a warning

as if to say
those sad shoes will go no further
than the funerary urn

So I choose to mock loss
to dance in damaged shoes
and with each extravagant gesture
to shout out

Let there be wine
food and song

Let there be no grief
upon my demise
only mirth

Only dancing
music and mirth.