if i die right here right now

there will be other mes

with worries as large as the ripe fruit

of tropical trees

there will be other mes

with joys as small as violets

and little white star flowers

there will be other mes

and i will not know their sorrows

though i may be their cause

there will be other mes

with backpacks and pencils

with eyes and hands

without knowledge of the universe

with some hope

with some luck

without faith

with some love but not enough

there will be other mes

who aspire to righteousness

for righteousness’ sake

ridiculous hapless stupid

ingenious lucky grand

there will be other mes

there will be other mes

there will be other mes

this is not a prayer


(written a little after 9/11/01)