I knew I wanted, was going to ask you
and I couldn't put my first foot forward
and now here we are, artless and ingenuous.
Your deliberate phrases fly, flutter around us,
wake us from twosies hibernation, yet seize me with
can't, don't, won't. I invite you now to imagine
lucid dying: moments after breath and heart stop,
but brain’s on a hot wire: so, do we think, or dream?
I want to believe we dream one last time,
As we disintegrate into the mist of baryons.
We insist, demand, to glide into the abyss in a dream state…
Perhaps some few of my molecules will be ingested
By a creature in a 100 million years.
Hope so.