““That’s What the Dead Do That’s what the dead do. The ones who’ve died, who’ve given up their lives, who’ve died for us so that they say to us see here this is all it means to be dead — to be no longer living and to be both never and always as never before and after. This is all it means the dead ones say, So you die, and everyone left living sticks around. You and everyone who loves you and whom you love take some time to mourn with speechless desire, and unspoken awe, our long faces and our sideways glances (as if you might be somewhere off to the side), here we come with our living fruit baskets and soon to wilt white flowers, good things intended to sublimate pain to substitute one thing for another & others pay their respects & others have their curiosity piqued & a very few are glad you’re gone though would never dare say so & most of all most can’t care at all and rightly so, everyone can’t be this faced with this much that often & that’s what a death does beyond doubt one death says what every death is, & what’s out of sight just over the horizon not so long later, a year or so at most, every one’s up & gone on to other matters the kinds of matters that matter to the living (your matter’s been burned or by nature’s routine chemistry mostly dissolved) (but you knew that) (you knew all along) finding reasons to stay alive finding work first for fuel & then for pleasure & sex & maybe love or what passes for love & sex maybe for adding another living human into the mix for the rest of us that’re left & other ways to pass the time. Once thoughts about how many of us there are involved in so much doing and coming & going & searching & hunting & gathering & using up time & space & materials.””
