This poem seems to go along with my sudden discovery of gray hair. In 1995, a friend of mine passed away at the age of 30, which spawned a series of poems on my own mortality. It’s been ten years since I wrote this, and the matter is closer but no clearer than it was then. Except that I’m no longer so sure about the last line. Your thoughts are appreciated.

 

 

NEW SONGS

  

 

Someday, I will suddenly die.

It won’t be fatal, but

something different will become of me then. 

I will have a new suit.

 

It’s so hard to believe. 

Death happens to everybody else.

Lots of things happen to other people,

but they never happen to me.

 

I’ve never had the mumps, been

in the hospital, or broken a bone.

I’ve never been drafted, jailed,

or ridden in a big balloon.

I’ve never been shot at or even robbed

but I have been to some big cities.

 

I have never caught a touchdown pass,

been to Greece or the Grand Canyon.

I’ve never ridden an elephant

or seen a wild polar bear. 

My car has broken down, but I

have never walked too far.

 

One night, I got so drunk, that I

stumbled on the railroad tracks. 

There was a train coming, but my friend

helped me up in time.

Then he got leukemia and died.

 

So with Death, maybe Kyle is not immune. 

I will have to learn new songs

to sing

along the way.

I will have to go alone.

 

 

© 1995 Kyle Kimberlin
all rights reserved