Let’s trek down to the beach. Bury ourselves in the sand
And listen to the ocean. Watch the waves crash on the shore
Until the sun bakes us all the way through.
Let the crabs pinch off all our fingers and toes
And make homes out of our weathered skulls.
Let our skin bubble and blister,
Our hair turn pale and brittle as straw,
Our eyes go bloodshot from the sun and sand and salt.
Let’s leave nothing unsaid, the tooth-rottingly beautiful moments,
The gritty, rotten, painful parts we would rather stay hidden,
And everything in between–there will be no remembering what was said
When we arrive in the after anyways. It will be slow going,
But at least we’ll have a pleasant view
And interesting conversation to keep us company all the while.