the first time i died, it was horrible.
i didn't even look cute.
i hadn't showered in days,
my hair was a greasy mop upon my head,
bruises and bloody cuts spotted my legs,
straggley hairs formed knots in my pits,
and my breath reaked of a sleazy sailor.

my fatality was an empty one.

i was turning on the water to take a shower,
or maybe i going to take a warm bubble bath......there are some facts of my parting
that still throw me for a loop.

silly me, i forgot the curling iron was on.
(i was going through a phase of setting my hair in very tight curls;
maybe i was trying to immulate my grandmother, she always
looked liked a classy muriel.)
clumsy me, my tiny ankle got wrapped in the cord.
unstable me, i splashed in the running water.

tiny currents of electricity danced through my body as i was taken over by
the waves of an indoor sea.
it hurt so bad.
i heard the doctors say i broke my back.
my ears and my nose and my mouth were running with blood.

i saw the position, color and status of my death:
crooked, naked, green, bloody and lifeless.

goddamnit!
i could have gone in such a fashionable way.

this is how i picture my next death: lipstick, a purple dress, black high heels, a handsome man on my shoulder, and a screwdriver resting on a coaster next to me.
shaved pits, no bruises, no cuts, clean hair, and the breath of a lady.
i'm attending a fancy, late twenty-something party with my lover,
and i choke on a dick...NO, not a dick, not a dick.
and i overdose on some coke...NO, not some coke, not some coke.
and i slit my wrists when i walk in on my lover fucking the early twenty-something waitress...NO, no fucking, no slitting wrists.

i can't plan my next departure.
that's like planning my next birth, which is an entirely different story.

and to the hawk's delight

shamus found a rabbit hole.
he said he saw the ground tremble, and i was quick to join.
oh, how sweet they are! one baby bunny, two baby bunnies, my, FIVE baby bunnies!
no mother rabbit in sight.
i scooped one up in my child-like palm. i couldn't have been more than 8 years old. man, 8 was the year for me.

would i contract some sort of rabbit disease? would i grow whiskers and would my front teeth buck out? would i start craving carrots and fucking all rabbits in sight? no, that's silly. there is no such thing as a rabbit disease.

i held a helpless life in my hands. elaine told me i would drop him.
and i did.
i dropped a helpless baby bunny on the murphy's cement driveway. my heart sank into my gut, my brain began to boil, and my lungs collapsed as i watched a helpless baby bunny roll away in front of me.
i broke his back legs.
i couldn't think. i couldn't think of anything.
i ran inside and elaine screamed "I TOLD YOU SO!"
i scooped up an ever-more helpless baby bunny and sat him back in his hole with his four brothers and sisters. maybe carrots will help? yes, carrots will do the trick! i nervously placed carrot slices in their hole, and somberly walked up into my bedroom.

the next morning i somberly walked toward the rabbit hole.
the rising sun displayed such a horrible sight!
rabbit parts scattered everywhere! guts, brains, eyeballs, feet, baby bunny noses; every organ a baby bunny could possibly have! all thrown maniacally across the side of the murphy's house. who could do such a thing?

me.
and to the hawk's delight, mother rabbit smelled my human stench on her baby bunnies.