I try to write everyday,
Today is a day; so,
I am trying to write
Why do I try to write every day?
I feel compelled
Why do I feel compelled?
I think it’s because
This life is flying by me
There is no brake to pump
This will all be over
In a few more heartbeats
That does not seem fair to me
There ought to be
What the Christians declare there to be
A place of ecstasy
Where the good of us go
After this life
Or at least a way
To stay in touch
With this lovely planet
Once you’ve been forced to leave
There ought to be a balcony
Where you can sit and watch everything
With amplified audio
Maybe someone could create an app for that
The dead could use the app
To check on a tailored version
Of life on earth
Tailored to earth’s action
Of which she had been part
It could be called
The Curious Ghost App
For those curious
As to what happened at the party
After they were called away
Once I am gone for good
People won't remember me
And if they do
What difference will it make?
They could write great volumes about me
They could declare me the greatest human ever
And I will be just as oblivious
As if they were saying nasty things
The dead I’ve known
Many outstanding people
Get precious little time in my memory
And when I do recall them
It does them no good
No record is made of it
Of me having thought of them
I’ve known thousands of people
And a few hundred of those
I've interacted with
At least casually
Several score of those
I have come to know well
We've become quite involved
They’ve learned about me
And I about them
We have told of desires
For this life
And begun to pull for one another
Some I’ve spent time with
Have no doubt died
Unbeknownst to me
And someday I will die
And many who’ve known me
Will never get the news
Of my death
And these are only the people
I’ve come to know
Consider all those
Who’ve lived
I never came to know
Many of them great people
Full of life
Admirable
With good traits
There were millions before me
Who left before I got here
There will be many born
After I’m gone
I will then be
One of the ones they will not know
But may wonder about
We live as if none of this were true
As if this life will last forever
We say to one another
I will love you forever
We think of the things we buy
As ours forever
Our property alone
Never to belong to another
But someday
It will go to a landfill
Be disassembled for recycling or reuse
Or become someone else’s property
I have almost nothing I can think of
That will be of value to someone else
Maybe most notably, the things I write
I realize most of what I have written
Will never be read by another living soul
And those things that are read
May only make the reader think
How pitiful that life must have been to live?
These snow days have been nice
Because it is as if Tanga and I
Really have connected a few times
I will reach out and touch her arm
And it might feel cold to my touch
She might say, your hand is warm
And I might say, your arm is cold
Those feelings are real
Those words are out of our mouths
Vibrating forever
I’m not saying someone or some being
Is recording what we are say or what we feel
But our movement
Among the molecules of air around us
Was caused by previous movement
And will be causing molecules to move
A million years from now
I cannot do anything
Not related to all that comes after
People really should have a way
Of looking back down on this earth
When their life is over
A way to keep in touch
To see how it all turns out
Someone needs to work on that app
ASAP
I would
But I’m too busy living
