One day I plan to be
the skeleton
some archeologist uncovers
and places in a trash bag
to reassemble
in a field museum workshop.
My plan does not mention
if humanity lasted so long
for the archeologist
to be from the genus
Homo sapiens.
Maybe it will be
the first space-faring aliens
who discover what once was
our hectic civilization
and try to determine
how our species vanished
in spite of handy inventions
like duct tape
and the Swiss Army Knife.
Maybe my bones
will migrate over time
closer to the surface
and be dug up
by a sated coyote
that cleans its teeth
by gnawing on my femur
while his full belly
makes noises
under the moonlight.