She died of too much amazement at this life
and insatiable curiosity about the next.
 

Already she’s started a poem about the fog lifting
and the chocolates. They have different names there.
 

What a relief. There are no genders.
Only sex.
 

And sometimes peace,
sometimes painted, sometimes danced.
 

Everyone is over eighty
in robust health and quick of mind.
 

Say your favorite color and the ethereal
designer will have your hair dyed to match. 
 

You’ll learn Argentinean tango in one day
and all the old songs will come into your head.
 

Eventually you’ll see for yourself.

 

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Published by Barnwood Magazine