immortality
not forever
but long enough perhaps
that when she’s in her seventies
divorced or abandoned by death
and her kids have gone off
to live in those other lives
they too found by the roadside
a cheque will come
so there will be wood for the fire
a bottle of inexpensive sanguine Sauvignon
uncorked a
steak sizzling in the pan
a few cracked peppercorns a little cream
she’ll take a book down from a shelf
open it to this page
she’ll take a knife
and fork
and there’ll be blood in the sauce
she’ll raise the glass and I’ll be there
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