If I Die in Hospice
In the instance where my life does not end
Me out there sailing through a sudden squall or
failing to outrun the authorities after a good-natured display of public violence
If I happen to fall victim of illness or extreme age
And die under the care of hospice,
A few things must occur
Lest I haunt this overheated watery rock for eternity
Play the hits.
America has always sold itself like a potluck dinner—“Bring your culture! Bring your grandma’s recipes! Bring the funky spices we can pretend we invented!”