I passed my corpse on the way to breakfast.
The rotten stink attracted every kind of scavenger.
An opossum fought with a young raccoon over my nose.
Yellowjackets swarmed in and out of my ears with treasure.
The sound of their gathering was furious and good.

It felt good to see myself dead, and all those creatures feasting there.
I paused to reflect for a moment. ‘There,’ I thought,
‘is my dead body… one… more… time.’

Satisfied, I proceeded onward to the scene of my repast.
A couple of eggs. Some toast. Fried potato.
And a little bit of butter. Salt and pepper.
Some milk and water.