Each second is the anniversary
of the second that preceded it,
just as every day is the anniversary
of the day before, the month before,
the year before, and what happened,
be it tragedy or triumph,
be it nothing or everything,
be it breath or the absence of breath,
is worthy of remembrance,
worthy of celebration,
the popping sounds of firecrackers
or corks shooting from bottles,
rifles firing at gods without names
exploding in the ears of those
with confetti in their hair,
because then will be
the anniversary of now,
and I think you get the idea,
and you getting the idea
is the anniversary of not getting it,
so get drunk before you forget
what it was you were toasting to.
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