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By Terry Teague Meyer

I'm looking forward to

Memories of cancer.

Then, I will stroke thick tresses,

Trying to recall

When an alien occupied my bathroom mirror

Refusing to yield, never cracking a smile

Despite my lectures on the importance of

A positive attitude

I am dreaming of memories of cancer

When Fridays will not find me tethered and mindless

Waking unaware of when I slept

Or what is invading my veins

In that Futureland of health and possibilities

I will recall haloed in pastel

Candy, Sharian, Goldie—angels all

Drawing blood and dispensing poison,

With warm efficiency, wit and sarcasm

To us bald or bewigged

Shriveled or attractive

Sleeping and alert—mindful all

We’re skating on thin ice

Cold blackness just beneath.

It was always there but we couldn’t see

Didn’t imagine…

When it comes to death, we are all adolescents.

See you next week, tomorrow, we say

I’m off to the hospital, my job, the rest of my life

Long may it be.

I’m looking forward to

Memories of cancer

When soapy hands in the shower

Will not encounter inhuman parts

Or notice the missing

In that normal wonderland of Before

I will dry my perfect body, arrange my hair

And dress especially nice

To stride into the rest of my life

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