Afterlife

not often enough

are we speaking

in reference to afterlife

to the understanding

of our limits on legs

underfoot

the monster undertow

of tomorrow

is like a camouflaged submarine

barely crawling.

a magnet below us

pulling.

we laugh and scream

and finger cars

that cut us off

and slow our progress

to another meaningless

meeting of details,

sketches of something

we plan to goddamn make happen.

and every breath taken for granted

until this magic carpet is pulled out from under us

and we awake to the simple ending

ahead of all of us.