SINCE MY LIFE IS ALMOST OVER
I better practice being dead.
I lie still as a stone and don’t
move a muscle when a bird
pees all over me which I guess
is better than getting stung by
a bumble bee.
I wish some lightening bugs
would show up so I could see
what’s going on here at night.
When I make my wish under a star,
I can smell my wife cooking a Givetch
covered in hot Adjvar. I follow the scent
as swift as an Olympic runner, and find
her waiting for me as she said she would.