To A Fishstick Dying Young

As we near the inevitable conclusion of You Look Nice Today, my feelings become too much to bear. And when that happens, you get poetry. What follows is my lament for one of the greatest podcasts of all time.

Where now is Tang Tang and rider, my son?
When comes the train to Dubai?
Where is that baby, ‘twas riding a dog?
The butler ‘twas only knee-high?

Where at last landed Joey Nicklepuss,
Thrown down from his once-gilded throne?
Where is the man selling hot dogs to ladies?
A sandwich, no longer alone?

I remember a man whose torso was long,
Whose legs were as white as the sun.
Did he board that last train to Ulaanbaatar
And away from his family run?

The awkwardest restaurant in history closed.
The drum-circle gym has shut down.
The barber had one last mystery to solve
And then he and his balls just skipped town.

The baby butlers have all grown up.
Joey Nicklepuss no longer works.
He ambles around, finds a drink where he can,
And curses three absentee jerks.

Van Hœt succumbed to his illnesses.
Aunt Nancy threw up in her purse.
There’s a trumpet that plays “Careless Whisper” aloud;
It’s strapped to the front of a hearse.

For what are the lessons we were meant to learn?
That life is both gorgeous and brief.
Good things do come and surely do go,
Like a laugh, like a breath, like a queef.

So go on your faire du camping, if you wish.
Go get your Man School degree.
For one day, your OPN❤WDE van will break down,
As the mountains fall into the sea.

Go get your Anglican Sushi, my friend,
Made with lobster straight off of the farm.
The best you can do is become a success;
The worst is some bodily harm.

It is my great hope, my life-living friend,
That when you meet God, in your way,
He leans o’er your shoulder and says in your ear
These four words: “You Look Nice…Today.”