Dead People
Their reward is
they become innocent again
and when they reappear in memory
death has completely erased
the blurs, and given them boundaries. They rise
& move through their new world with clean,
clear edges. A man I knew–a very troubled man
who died a very troubled way–in particular has become
buoyant, unattached finally from
his histories, from the trappings of a story,
from the trappings of his drugs
and he waltzes again through the world
with firmly defined edges
in the way only dead people
and babies can do.
Sometimes I think I see his unkempt goatee
in a crowd of people and I catch my breath.
I think they all walk among us–
not literally but somehow–
wearing graduation gowns and mortarboards
breathing the air incredibly deep like drowning people
and repeating three things over and over:
‘Again’, ‘Again’, and ‘Again’.
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