When We're Dead

We're lying in bed reading and I'm thinking of when we're dead. The path to death really -- neither are as dark as they seem. In fact, when I get up to get another book and you watch my reentering the room, I say, You looking at my Adonis body? You say, Pose. I mock a statue at the Met.

Now the light is on your book and face and you're nearing my favorite expression: focus oblivious to everything else.

This is about death, I guess, because the path to it is filled with these forgetful moments. When we're gone, no one will know them, but I'm glad to now notice them.