Things I Will Miss When I’m Dead

when I’m good and dead and done with this fleshy suit

i will miss so many things

i will miss the morning

and the birds that sing wake-up songs to my ears which are not yet cluttered with the days crap

crisp honey melodies riding on waves of emptiness

round sounds

that first sip of coffee and the moment when my mind gets to taste it

when my neurons start stretching and yawning— waking up from spinning spiral movies

they start to weave the waking illusion that happens in lines straight and narrow and

—mmm—

creamy and hot and roasty toasty awakeness—my tongue tastes like wet tree bark.

i will miss George Winston and his rural folk piano music and coloring with pencils

drawing psychedelic shapes that must have been planted when I poured LSD all over my mind

i will miss the morning

dark skies still

wet cold nose

gobble. gobble. gobble.

tea pot

HISSSSSSS!!!!

i will miss my hands and my feet and my lips and my teeth.

i will miss all those things I never got to do

like flying without the aid of something other than my own body

and having babies move from the void inside my center—

keeping them and waking up in the middle of the night to feed and love and giving myself over to someone other than me.

I will surely miss never having been a mother to a human.

won’t i?

i will miss the smell of green things after it rains

and the shadows made by the fading day that give me that feeling of longing===

that ache in the center of my chest that reminds me —

AGAIN

i missed something spectacular because I wasn’t paying attention.

i will miss the shadows.

the mountains that rise up like prophets from the earth.

sky scrapers in league with the angels===with god~~~ with heaven===

whispering

i will miss their guidance when I’m done

when i’m dead

bury me in their belly please

will you remember?

so that I may rest

finally

for goodness sakes

i will miss my face being held in the hands of my lover

i will miss lips and legs and eyes and breath

a    n    d .  .  .  .

laughter that comes from grace

a surprise

we laughed about the cheese for a long time— didn’t we?

i will miss trikonasana— boohoo.

i will not miss utkatasana—good riddance fucker.

I will miss Zeb’s eyes, and his nose, and his ears

and his rosemary scented forehead

kiss kiss kiss

nuzzle nuzzle nuzzle

i will miss baths with salt and oil and candles and the smell of waxy vanilla mixed with bourbon and light made by fire

books.I will miss books. books

books

i will miss being hungry and then eating

tasting— chewing—swallowing—

shannonkristinjohannamelissajosetterobinwhitneyyvonneerickenjoanselenacandynikkijennagracebrandydianachristineleah.

others too.

dancing

oh my god

i will miss dancing

until i’m whiplashed

crying

oh my god

i will miss crying

sobbing

weeping

wailing

sweet release

feeling–mmm

FUCK!

i will miss feeling

oh, yeah!!! and butterflies and rainbows and puppies and kittens and wildflowers and the ocean and the desert and hiking that makes me pant like a dog and hiking that makes me breathe like i’ve had too much morphine and chocolate with salt and pink salt with pink salt and pizza and french fries and sushi and guacamole and salsa on whatever and i will miss sauces of all sorts and toast with butter and robin’s apricot jam and shannon’s voice and melissa’s laugh and josette’s hands and sunshine, did i mention sunshine?  naked skin slathered with sunshine. yeah. hot damn! bob schneider. and yoga pura. and the sun magazine. and writing. and resisting. even that. and magic. and miracles. and surprises.

and shit like that.