have you ever lived in a world
where the old get young?

what would the dead tell us after
doing the sixty yard dash and back
maybe stopping for a margarita at age twenty-one,
and maybe begrudgingly moving on past eighteen,

and when they finally pass through their awkward teenage years
you'll see the fear on their face
as they realize the only thing that comes this far
before death is birth.



in the end, all that hard work
that wasted and filled the countless hours of their lives
was well worth it.

better than the absolute nothingness of pre-fetus-hood.

10/14/2008

Author's Note: "death was the birth of him" -samuel beckett. this poem was a dream i had that i am turning into a play.

Posted on 10/15/2008
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