On the radio, the man waiting to die 
explains what he is doing to feed
the stories of his life into a computer
program. The more stories he can tell
before his cancer claims him, the more
information the program will have
to search through, so any family member
who has a question can hear an answer
in his own voice, resembling one
he might give, were he still alive.

Perhaps it is better to spend the time
left to you, like this. Perhaps the sorrow
is too much, staring at a hospital wall or
out a window at lake water crisscrossed
with shadows of ghosts. Some people
don't wish to be burned when they pass;
some want to go into the earth simply, without
wrappers, so they can grow back as a tree. None
of us know what it really means to be immortal.
You only know you want something of you to go on.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.