DEAD END
Do I need a sign to remind me
to live each day as if it matters?
It’s like the friendly California advice
I get about the next earthquake:
It’s not a matter of IF it occurs,
it’s only a matter of WHEN.
All the kick-ass reminders
that keep me up all night—
the loss of recent memory,
teeth falling out of my mouth,
can no longer sign my name,
drive a car or walk without a cane,
will vanish at the end of the road
when a naked angel opens a door
and invites me in to dance a Hora.