Haibun Today

A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Editor
Volume 4, Number 3, September 2010

Ed Higgins
Newberg, Oregon, USA


So one day

So one day I’m finally dead, torn to pieces by the perils of old age and the ravages of forgotten depravities, and I’m classically floating above the hospital bed happy as a helium balloon saying CONGRATULATIONS! bouncing and twisting off the white acoustical tiles while looking down at my weeping wife kissing my pallid forehead goodbye with glistening tears I can clearly see, anointing the back of my right hand she had been holding, in rivulets and small globs of sadness rolling off to stain the wrinkled bedsheets as I’m, ironically maybe, thinking if only I could get her to look up at me floating here like some Cheshire Garfield wanting to say it’s all right, and where else can you get this much comedy with me thud, thudding against this ceiling in a kind of light musical thrumming that may or may not be my soul, because it certainly isn’t my heart anymore, when the cloud-like tiles suddenly blink open in a beckoning adventure letting me float lightly through.

passing seaward
under Golden Gate Bridge
above clouds colliding


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