Never mind decent food
for worms, birds,
trees, pretty
flowers—or even
the ghostly
future of human thought
when I die, I'd like best
to be turned
to a brick;
to be
so ubiquitous,
useful, part
and parcel of the growth and
spread of a
brilliant civilization!
And yet
to transcend all of it
after the fact
with my
perfect little soulless ignorance—
this
would be the
most magnificent and
terrible gift.
