Valedictorian
Like a necrophiliac the day
after Katrina hit New Orleans,
you are eager for the future
O graduating class.
The future is eager, too.
Eager to give millipede enemas,
cork the rectum, then sell you
like misinformation.
I am here today to put
an at-risk smile on your face;
resumes are as valuable
as hang gliding accidents.
Know this: you are doomed
but don’t deep throat that diploma;
the paper cuts in your cheeks
will make eating awkward.
There is no need to make it rain
cardboard and tassels; you will
concuss yourself with alcohol,
impending failure soon enough.
Congratulations, graduating class.
May you never starve enough
to carve pieces of yourself,
knead them into pasta.