Unbirthday

This morning on Facebook, I got a reminder

that this is the birthday of a friend I maintain

on this social network site.

This fine fellow, and well-known poet, I knew

back in the hey-day 80’s, passed away a year

or so ago.

How could anyone not connected in some way

to the deceased even give a tinker’s damn about

his loss?

I am sure that the advertisers on his Facebook

feed still post their goods and services daily,

hoping he’ll respond and buy what they are

peddling.

You can never escape the marketing schemes

and listings. Not even death will erase the

memory of your name to the unconscionable

and greedy.

How many remain on the rolls and censuses

of the living? How many names are immortal-

ized by the monetarily gluttonous designs of

the profiteers who persistently list and chase

us all into oblivion even past the grave?

I say, two can play at that game. When I’m

gone, and on the anniversary of my birth,

don’t even bother to mention my status

or my name.

                           -30-

Chris Hanch 7-28-2020