When I die I’d better be wearing a cashmere turtleneck.

Don’t throw the life preserver until I’m madly flailing.

You used to beg to sit in my lap while we ate dinner.

Let’s shut ourselves in the kitchen and have a talk.

Next time you see me, bring a bottle of champagne.

Things are terrible now, but they’ll be terrible later too.

Just don’t start despairing without me.

You could’ve killed me by now, but you haven’t tried once.

Is it the way I flash a smile?

Next time I see you, I’ll bring a bottle of champagne.

Clayton Krollman is a graduate of University of Maryland, where he received the Jiménez-Porter Literary Prize for poetry. His most recent writing can be found in The Penn Review, Moon City Press, and Matador Review, among others. He has had work nominated for both a Best of the Net Award and a Pushcart Prize. Currently, he lives and writes in Asheville, NC.

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