Naps

hungrybison

to a farm boy
death is obvious
chicken heads fall to the ground
to make way for Sunday’s dinner

a dead piglet
is found in the mud
crushed by its mother

the ratters
the hunters
the companions
they all disappear

but me,
I’m a city boy
death is kinda rare to me

as I age
I think about death
far more than ever

I frequently wear out
I ache
I have cracked teeth
inflamed knuckles
grey hair

I stay afloat
by drinking coffee

but still I doze

I remember doing this as a teenager
but then it was indulgence
now it’s necessity

the Buddhists
say naps are a “Noble Truth”

but I’m not a Buddhist

my father’s message
when I was a boy
was that rest is for the weak

now he spends his life
drinking coffee
and looking out the window

he thinks about death
far more than ever

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