Seventythree To Go, Mrs. Dalloway

When the cousin you could lose without much regret
sends you a gizmo, via email, to calculate how many days you have lived,
(did i say without regret? did i say self-actualizedly?)
and the number turns out to be
seventythree
short
of
20,000
(did i say leagues under the sea? did i say miles for an oil change?)
....
A party must be planned for two and a half months hence.
Remarkably close to my 52cd birthday/I'm thinking underwater theme?
submarine sandwiches, pickled octopi, corners lit with lava lamps,
or maybe just a play on julesverne
jewels, vernal, green jewels, emeralds, ah,
suddenly we are back to Oz,
ok, an Oz theme...
munchkins, small appetizers, poppies, opiates suspended from the ceiling, sentimental songs,
the movie playing in the background, maybe upside down,
flying monkeys outlined in chalk on the floor,
(therapy has got to have SOME results)
Mulish kick, must the cousin be invited?
Planned my wedding in a much shorter time.
Mulish kick, didn't invite the cousin to that, either.