A Question for the After Life

Now the question uppermost,
As you dance around the door,
Seems to be, Do you believe

You’ll have anything to say
When you finally step through?
There’s a little eagerness,

Almost a nudge-nudge, wink-wink,
About those wanting to ask,
Wanting to know if you’ll try

To cross over with yourself
Intact, maybe signal back.
They remind you of minors

Outside gas-station markets,
Hoping to find an adult
Willing to take their twenty

And come back with a six pack.
You’ll get to go into Death
And ask their question for them.

Excuse me, Death, you mind
If I send a little note
Back to everyone living,

Let them know, despite it all,
That I’m still me on this side,
Except that I don’t exist?