I'm gonna make you want to miss me.
	Though I've not given daily
	salutations or caring questions
	regarding your dress or sick cousin,
	yet to buttress this last day's impressions
	I will act the brother with intentions mainly
	to make you want to miss me.
	Never have I been rude
	or abusive with mind intrusive
	to your integrity. But kindness
	has not ensued, a blindness
	to friends' cordiality. Never considered
	until this day I'm leaving behind legacy
	with fond reminisces of the sweetest
	guy ever to parade these halls. His clothes
	the neatest, a doll's delicacy of feelings and nose,
	so fragile I can be for the sake
	of making you want to miss me.
	As long as I'm raised on the pedestal
	with final hours of praise and bon voyage
	to an untapped camaraderie, veiled benevolence
	and collage of hobbies and concerns capped
	by widest grin and softest pat "Farewell.
	We should have done more together." Too late.
	But at least I leave knowing
	I've made sure you're gonna miss me.
Copyright 1998 John Feissel. All rights reserved.