Sometimes I think about
Nietzsche scholar Rob Solomon
Who died of a hole in his heart
Just past security
In the Zürich Flughafen
Did he bless himself
And wish that he’d live over again
Da capo, philosopher eternal—
Or did he accept that little hungry hole,
Friend since birth,
A final ending—
Or did he wish, perhaps,
For different funeral rites:
Wife and friends
Not linoleum and worried 
Flight attendants
And the bright lights of eternity
Soaring through the sky
“Don’t take off without me.”

Ross Kilpatrick ’23 is a staff writer