a myriad persons

"Obituary"

My eyes grip the grey print
where a name is inked
and weaves through wood pulp.

One more soul made disincarnate
ushered to extinction
whose existence had been
unbeknownst to me.

My mind hums the Flaming Lips:
Do you realize that everyone
you know someday will die ?

All the names and faces
you hold dear will someday
simmer down in somber silence
rendering your mem'ries obsolete.

And nobody will notice
any change.

I presently am pondering
how many times I've died:
I've been a myriad persons
who are little like me now,

yet I never noticed
who I am

had changed.

And I don't miss me.