7 seconds

It’s possible, I suppose.

I mumbled something about being busy, and poured more whiskey into my cup.

Perhaps, in the moments before death
she might have thought of me

and some scientists have said
that the last seven seconds of life
stretch inside your mind

and all that you remember
plays like a movie across your
consciousness,

so I guess it might be possible,

that she might have relived all of the times

when my smile made her happy,
for a moment.

As she bled out on the asphalt of
Washington Street, under the lights,
she may have been in the car with me,
as I drove through New Mexico
and we sang a song together
that we were hearing for the first time.

She may have been
with me at Asilomar,
taking pictures with the ocean,

or laughing in the house in Creve Couer
as the Christmas lights flashed.

It’s possible,
I suppose.

That in the last seven seconds of my life,

I’ll see her again
in those moments.

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