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It's at another's death we become aware of things we never knew before.

False Teeth

Blue_rose-wallpaper-10097037by Sulley Wilde26 Nov 2013

Your studio apartment was too small. Jars and jars of preserves were stacked neatly on top of each other lining almost every inch of space in your claustrophobic kitchen

Y2K was coming.
Jerky here, canned goods there. Even half used toilet paper rolls stolen from rest stops filled every nook and cranny of your apartment.
Guess you can’t be too careful.

It’s hard to believe that fifty-seven years of life, your life was summed up with less than fifteen people coming to your memorial service.

The mortuary was somber, too silent as you rested in that black box now weighing less than six pounds.

After your death I saw your dentures floating in a clear fluid on your headboard.
I didn’t even know you wore them.

I half expected them to start chomping in that glass, telling me all your dark secrets, raging in protest, especially after you were being neatly packaged and placed on top of your first husband’s T.V.


Too bad your dentures didn’t speak up for you. Too bad they didn’t tell us that you had paperwork hiding in the back of your closet declaring you wanted to be buried whole in Utah.
It’s too bad.