I don’t say this very often
– hell, I don’t even think it very often –
but I’m glad you’re not dead.
I am
at this very moment
exceedingly pleased
you’re not six feet under
or scattered ashes in the wind
or being served
to cannibals in Wyoming.

I appreciate you breathing
and digesting
and pumping blood
in my regular vicinity
while shedding skin cells
and growing nails
with such regularity and aplomb.
You do good works
while alive.
It’s enjoyed.

Thank you
for sticking around
as long as you have
and keeping it up
as long as you are able.