As the Crow Flies

Feed me crow. With a side helping of humble pie. Bird and entrails are what I deserve, garnished with an eye and a tooth or two. Just like cancer cures nicotine addiction, the wisdom of imminent death gives me a final perspective, too late to apply to my life all done and lived. I can only imagine the joy of this perspective, had it been mine before I did what made me deserve my bureaucratic fate, my legislated mortality.

Right? Wrong? It doesn’t matter on Death Row, because it’s been settled, etched in a book with the burning, hot caustic markings of my last breaths. That book is about to be closed forever and put up on a shelf, way high out of reach, to collect the same dust as the other books way high out of reach, the compendium of those who needed mortality to teach them living.

My new wisdom puts me at peace, so send me home, now that I am rehabilitated.