At my end
strip me down
a store mannequin
at the end of the season
Recycle me
my clothes
my skin
my bones
Don't bother with my eyes
they've seen too much already
my ears
they barely work
The right shoulder
no longer throws a ball
and the left
yoga did it in
The wrist I broke skiing
it's never been the same
eight fingers are still usable
the middle ones worn out
My brain is shot
from working overtime
my hair, what's left of it
could be used to tie a fly
My private parts will remain private
gathered in a large urn
dumped unceremoniously
like unrecycleable foam
I am planning to die
early on a
don't want to miss
recycling day
(photo from BitwiseAND.com)
3 comments:
What's going to happen to your smile, your probing questions, your friendships, you enigmatic poems, your hot tub, your wardrobe of 27 (or is it 28)polartec pullovers, your charm!! I just through the last one in there to get your attention!!! Roger
I think there should be a drawer that contains the various parts which you can add to. Don't forget your new brain cells you are growing. this is not a merely subtractive process. And that volvo part of you is too sturdy to be allowed to de-part. You are a fun one. I enjoy how your mind zizags. I celebrate you!
Jim,
What happens to all your memories? If they get recycled does someone else have to relive them?
Craig
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