We smile at each other br and I lean back against the wicker couch. br How does it feel to be dead? I say. br You touch my knees with your blue fingers. br And when you open your mouth, br a ball of yellow light falls to the floor br and burns a hole through it. br Don't tell me, I say. I don't want to hear. br Did you ever, you start, br wear a certain kind of dress br and just by accident, br so inconsequential you barely notice it, br your fingers graze that dress br and you hear the sound of a knife cutting paper, br you see it too br and you realize how that image br is simply the extension of another image, br that your own life br is a chain of words br that one day will snap. br Words, you say, young girls in a circle, holding hands, br and beginning to rise heavenward br in their confirmation dresses, br like white helium balloons, br the wreathes of flowers on their heads spinning, br and above all that, br that's where I'm floating, br and that's what it's like br only ten times clearer, br ten times more horrible.