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When I died I left my body
behind the wheel of my old car;
strapped in and still intoxicated
with what had been,
up till then a pretty damn good life
of making proper time.
When I died I left my body,
white knuckles grasping the wheel,
turning into the skid and impacting
an eventual dead end to my travels.
When I died I left my body
not caring about being seen naked;
cold and wrapped up in cellophane,
like last Thursday’s left over
Yankee pot roast and gravy.
When I died I left my body
and didn’t look back….
2008 © TS
Ted Sheridan
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