If I was, maybe I wouldn't be a crack in the sidewalk, maybe I would not be a puff of smoke.
I ate a lot of things in this life to become nothing.
I ate a lot of power, for one thing. Through my eyes like a fish. And a lot of lesser bodies - the mass is hard to work out given a photon has none and they've been passing through my skin this whole time.
An old man used to show me the canals and his hands were something.
A lot of grease I've never licked away. A lot of moments I've never watched the water rise up. I'm going to watch a lot of people go: and so did he.
Someone is welcoming them all back to the bottom of a drawer with an old war photo and biscuits and gravy and all the ice cream they ever gave away.