Let’s just say it.
You are the lucky one, Ed.
Dying is the answer to all of it.
Life is a constant drum
occluding the lyrics.
When you die,
you have flexible hours.
You can eat all the bacon you want.
You can run red lights.
You can float or bilocate.
If allowed to choose
I would be you instead.
But I have the boys,
and I trampoline back to this answer:
Yes, I would do all of this again
even knowing you would go first.
Are you near a window?
Can you feel the snow?
Have you met your heroes?
To the other dead husbands:
Please befriend my beloved.
He’s the one with the sweet beard.
He’s the one with the almond eyes.
He’s the one with the sleeve tattoo.
He’s the one that’s always glowing.