WHEN I NO LONGER EXIST

My mail gets stamped Return to sender.
I migrate like a Monarch butterfly—
warm in winter and cool in summer.
Relieved to be rid of an old body
I no longer have to drag around,
I’m free of visiting doctors
who worry about my blood lipids
and every little pimple on my ass—
ordering colonoscopies and biopsies,
expecting me to live until Kingdom come.
With no teeth to brush, I’m delighted
to tell my sadistic dentists they can shove
their implants and root canals in the toilet.
I’ll visit all my loved ones and float
around in my toothless grin,
happier than I’ve ever been.