Let me spend one of my remaining breaths to say goodbye
to daily papers that filled my life with laughter
even amidst their catacombs that catalogued the oft-depressing dead.
They brought delight detailing movies or bands I’ll never hear.
So, goodbye photographs of circus clowns, &
satellite rendering of a smiley face on Mars.
The news is bad, but bad news, too, must end:
no more police blotter & obituary pages,
no guns, drugs & prostitution stings,
no updates on al-Qaeda like a hateful shopping list.
Even the crossword puzzles & sudokus
will be silenced by the deaths of religions,
sciences, the death of language.
That means goodbye Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
where I mined box scores from the Steelers games,
Herald-Dispatch where I worked as a cub reporter
covering landfill fires & purple ooze in the Ohio River.
Oh, those pages cool & smooth,
yet withered like an old man’s skin.
Oh, bold headlines & agate type,
em spaces, en spaces, kerning.
I will miss all that & I will miss you
if there’s time for missing anything.
It’s not just your body chained to a stick in the flames,
but the be-all/end-all, the vast conglomeration
that soon will cease to be. So, goodbye.
May your ultimate edition not have time to yellow
in silent light from our exploding sun.