“I will die in ten minutes,” she said.

Dead fish eyes –

wide.

Skin-

pulled tight, like a plastic doll.

“Actually,”

she corrected herself,

“I died this morning.”

“No, no,”

I replied.

Impatient.

“You are not dead

because I am not dead.

Here I am

here

sitting with you

here

in the sunlight.”

“Well then, get a priest.

He can save me…and you.”

And I thought-

you’re dead

here

in Hell

and I’m alive-at least I’m fairly certain I’m alive-

here

in life.

Fuck getting a priest.

Fuck this.

I’ll save my strength.

Here-this Hell- Life- Limbo

Your hereafter

My moment

Is it really all that bad?

Just sitting here-

you

me

in the sunlight

dead

and alive?

I guess it’s all just a matter of perspective.

It’s always been just a matter of perspective.

“Happy Birthday,” I said as I took my leave

the bitter sting of irony

and sadness

assuring me that I was correct.

I was not dead.

I was very much alive.