The True Meaning Of Our Birth And Death Poem by Charles Chaim Wax

In the recovery room
my sister held up
the bottle of Afrin nasal spray.
“This saved me! ” she exclaimed,
kissing the red letters
printed on white plastic.
“Ma, what’s with you? ”
asked Navin, her 12 year old son.
“When I was waiting
to go on the operating table
I couldn’t breath
because my nose was stuffed
so I sent Howard
to buy Afrin
and spritzed up
ten sprays in each nose
then I could breathe!
I didn’t fear to suffocate.”
“Ma, you’re talking like a dope addict.”
“A lot you know!
while your little sister, Annie, was coming
into the world
I gave good sprays
up the nose, ” she said kissing
the plastic bottle once again.”
“When you comin’ home, ma? ”
asked Navin. “I’m starving.”
“I’ll buy you a slice of pizza, ” I said.
“One slice! Get real, Steve.”
“Don’t you want to see your new sister, ” my sister asked Navin.
“Is she going someplace? ” he said walking towards the door.
I found a pizza parlor
a block away and ordered a pie.
Navin quickly devoured four slices,
then belched. Kids were playing
video games so he asked for a few dollars
in change
which I gave him
and as I watched these youngsters
I wondered what Annie
would be like at their age,
and what she would say
as she watched my coffin
being lowered into the ground.
“Hey, Navin, ”
I called out. “When I croak
whatta you gonna
say at my funeral? ”
“Depends what kinda food they got there.”