To Die

I will die
and men in khaki shorts will mow their lawns
bulging grey-haired bellies
jiggling to the machine’s vibrations
beer sloshing in guts
as growing grass gets the blade

I will die
and women in hot baths will shave their legs
long and smothered in lather
scented candle burning at the tub’s edge
relaxing music on the laptop plays
as growing hair gets the blade

I will die
and I would be glad to know
if I could know
how people continue to dance and sing
and pop microwave popcorn
searching for recipes online
asking Google questions about caramel
all of that will be mighty fine
the steadiness of our unyielding race
knowing it goes on as always
I won’t be bothered in the least…

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