by Emily locked me in the bathroom again
even though I reminded her that
SomeTHING is driving space to expand at an ever-increasing rate, but no one alive knows what that thing is
And no one knows what really happened to Jimmy Hoffa
or whether Toulouse-Lautrec is finally happy
But Emily doesn’t care about things like that
in death
anymore than she did in life
She would rather spend eternity
slamming doors, turning lights on and off, and hiding my keys
