super-presence of death

A future so determined, it breathes
presence more than
the noise of this immediate now,
cutting through the crystal
lattices of my neighborhood's bones.

On my stereo, Nick Cave
was singing a sad ballad:
"Death is not the end"
but I can't stop thinking
about "would-be orphan" moments

and all the laughs
which are yet to be laughed,

and all the drinks
that I am supposed to buy for
the whole universe
during the weekend's happy-hour.