we won't outgrow doing stuff like this
and when we're gone we'll play ghost-cards
leaving earth
to our babies
and laughing so hard it annoys other ghosts
ghosts also die usually
as their babies grow older and die
and their babies live and die also
and on like that
until we, still we, are pieces of emptiness
the great emptiness built of us
and the great silence there will ring
also with our laughter
though our laughter will have changed
as our babies' generations tick off
like trees in an orchard seen from a flying car
and after we cease to be even emptiness
we will still pull slot-machine arms together
somehow i know
though few other organisms may possibly
some sad and eternally beautiful how, i know
