before I go down the drain with the rest of you,
feed me thistle seeds nestled in pistachio shells,
let me feel the sunlight reflect off Namibian sandstone
onto my weary wings, let me write my memoirs
in seven colors and place them in silver boxes.
before I go, wrap me in precious cloths of silver,
purple and red, but let me see the place to which
we go, eyes wide open, a song rising in my breast.
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