What happens when we die? I think I know
I’m pretty sure I crashed and died last Spring
I’ll tell my death-belief to you, although
Belief in something may not mean a thing
I rode my bike as fast as I could spin
Then I collided sideways with a car
I struck my head and shook the brain within
Most places that I damaged bear a scar
My memories of crashing are obscured
by memories of angels on a mount
My memories are poignant, not absurd
The angels said my time with them would count
So death is just a meeting and a task
And Heaven, Hell? Don’t know; I didn’t ask.