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As the End of the World Approaches—Ace Boggess

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.

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