Joe Lamb – Vanitas
Death
is small potatoes
for those
already dead.
Singing in the Heavenly Choir,
reincarnating as a water buffalo,
or becoming one with infinite silence
share much in common,
and all are fine by me.
Maybe I could learn to carry a tune,
develop a taste for water hyacinths,
or find a lasting cure
for my insomnia.
Dying––
now that is another matter.
When the pickup flipped on its side,
and careened to the canyon’s edge,
I kept spinning the steering wheel,
even though all four tires
were off the ground.
And that time on Trampas Peak
perched on the rock ledge,
knowing they would find me
spread-eagled in the skree slope
far below,
I couldn’t stop looking
at the ripped crotch
in my red corduroys,
and wishing
I had worn underwear.
All paths converge
and no matter which I take
I’ll find my way
to the moment after.
If my heart finds proof
that my brain is wrong,
and something exists
on the other side
then I’ll linger there awhile
to wait for you
so we can wander
from galaxy to galaxy
acting sometimes like a particle,
sometimes like a wave.
–Joe Lamb
Date: July 5, 2013
Categories: Joe Lamb