My car wouldn’t start.
I pushed it off a cliff and watched
the luminous sunrise.
Sunrise paid two bird tweets for my junker car
and donated it to Butterflies Anonymous.
The brilliant sunshine smashed my coffee maker,
spilling my joy into puddles. A voice spoke, “Too much
caffeine will give your tummy butterflies!”
I knew the voice wasn’t God—
God knows there’s no such thing as too much caffeine.
But Death, Death won’t let me
drink the whole pot.
He says he wants some, too.
I offer him a cup of brew, extra leaded.
He says it tastes like Heaven.
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