Expiration Date

I hold in my hand

and in my soul

and in my head

the expiration date.

Instead of holding

a morning tea

I am inevitably reminded of the

meaning behind

the expiration date.

How gratifying it must be

to know it.

To have it inside my hand

and know that in spite of that

I will choose to throw it out anyway.

One way or another

from one bridge to the next,

the expiration date will fly from corner to corner

until it no longer has any room to crawl back to.

I will have expired it.

And in my hand,

instead of constantly holding

Death's ticket to the Ferris Wheel,

I would have exchanged it for

the rollercoaster instead.