For Sarah
We decide to give them a viking burial -
they have served us well, it is the very least
that they, and we, deserve.
Erika makes a raft from pop bottles and lolly sticks.
At midnight, we take them to the duckpond,
lay them threadbare and careworn
upon their transport to the afterlife.
I put a lighter to one teal heel.
The resulting blast hurls me 30 ft into the air.
Erika's eyebrows vanish in a puff of hot grief.
Perhaps, I reflect on the way down,
we should have washed them first.
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