Photo: Mauro Manca

Step into the boat.
No, you don’t need to bring anything with you.
You can leave your things behind.
Your pictures, books, clothes;
Even your phone.
Your shoes.
The plastic glass of apple juice with a bent straw.
You don’t need to bring anything with you,
Not the sun warming your face,
Nor the rain, softly falling on your hair,
Nor dreams of the ocean,
And your special places.
You don’t need to bring any of that with you,
Nor anyone.
Not your children.
Nor even your wife.
Let the memories and the music
Of days when you were young
Disappear into the nothingness,
Like the sigh and sudden emptiness
In the bed where you no longer lie.
Leave them weeping there.
Come, hold my hand.
Step into the boat.