I hope that if I fall, I will fall gracefully, but if it must
be hard, make it hard. The media has no attention
span for the average impact. I fear not being
alive, the aftermath, not the ground
or the mid-air heart attack.
But even more, I fear
having not been
alive.
I want my coffin to be surrounded.
Maybe it will be a sunny day, like today. People will look down
on me and wonder if maybe they’ll fall too and land
in their own coffin. They’ll be comfy and surrounded
by people who they didn’t know were
still their friends, who will be
looking down and speaking
happily, in even
tones.
