I saw my own death die, amidst dismal cancers of every sort of death.
Death herself was dying. Would she come again?
I saw her diabetic eyes squashed, unspeakable crimes without perpetrators,
I saw convenience store holdups, trash polluted hospital deaths 'midst plastic tubing, poison needles.
Existence spiraled, crushing inward. A rubble crush reduced to nothing.
Yet a buoyant youth stayed behind, laughing, praying, was that me?
Grateful for every moment. the ever present, resilience of what lives on.
The image of the kit fox man with wings flickered for a second,
He blurred, in his faded star fleet uniform, and brown sweater, tuned out, disappeared.
His image, an optical electronic illusion, was it from another time?
Before us, the goggle eyed bully with Cony Island candyman fingers loomed.
Without expression, into grinding wheels of yellow and indigo ink he took everything,
an atomic casino boss who never lost.
His fractal mass bled blue and yellow concentric rings of oil into a starless night.
And in that night I laid by the wall feeling her heart only inches from mine.