Several years before the fact
I wrote a poem
about the death of my favorite rocker
because I am a clever boy
and I wished to be prepared
for the likely eventuality.

On the day that it happened
however, I was wholly unprepared
for you
and everything available
involving your existence.
You threw me for a loop
and yet
after it went sour
I realized I had prepared for you
in all the many years
of passive-aggressive
whining and pathetic mumblings
that make up my entire oeuvre.

I hadn’t realized just how well
I had anticipated our entire arc
from early excitement
to final failure
from the very first.

I think
I would have been
an excellent Boy Scout.