A Poem About Dying
Reflections of a born-again biker
Texas resident bug.
Hanging 47 inches above the humid tarmac of Interstate Twenty,
On May Day 2013.
Do you see different colours?
In the 17 microseconds it took for your brain to emerge through your compound eyes,
Could you still see the lutescence guts?
Did you know that you were yellow on the inside?
For an instant, as your physical limits were laid sideways across my windshield,
Did you see your existence in all its gaudy glory?
It might be that you were a law abiding citizen. And you never hurt a fly.
So maybe you’ll get reincarnated. As a frog, or a meerkat.
How does that work – is there a constant number of souls? If humans double in population, do ants and amoeba take a dip to keep the reincarnation quota in check?
But if you’re a monotheistic bug, maybe you’ll go to a heaven.
There must be a lot of insects in heaven. The ants alone must weigh billions of tons.
If there are 9,000 million tons of living ants, and ants live for 6 months…
Yegads. That’s a tuckfon of heavenly ants. All the ants of all the past, hanging out in one great place. Not heavy enough to make a black hole. But still.
I’m glad I didn’t hit the ant heaven on my Honda ST1300.