“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.