The Death Zone
+ + +When I think of death I thinkof Peter Falk in The Princess Bride pattinghis pockets as he leaves the room
+Life is a series of doors or sothey say but I ask them thiswhere does that last door lead?
+For Falk maybe it leads backstagea black-walled catered affair with stagelights slowly baking stale muffins
+Sweaty cheese leaking onto dried-outgrapes a chocolate fountain cloggedby some errant strawberry crown
+but this is not where it leads for you orfor me that door opens onto darkness markedonly by a trellis or the lid of a casket
+the door of the earth’s womb openingfinally to accept us and with us the dirtnot to grow more strawberries for Falk
+but to pad his feet as he walks overheadto visit someone he certainly cares aboutbut whose name is lost to posterity.
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