So the lady that lived next door
to me in my apartment building
died in her sleep the other day.
Her children came by this afternoon
to her ground floor apartment to
move everything out through the
sliding patio door.
I didn't think too much
about her death
but that night I dreamed
she appeared to me in a nimbus
of cold blue light.
She never looked too good
in life,
and I'm sorry to report
that she
still looked pretty awful
in the Great Beyond.
Like five miles of bad road.
Even her robe looked dingy.
She just stared at me,
not in a threatening way,
but kinda sad and tired.
Didn't really see much exaltation
in her, to tell the truth.
Since she appeared not to want
to start the conversation,
I went first:
"I'm sorry to say that I never
knew your name" I told her.
"What is it?"
"Lucy Henderson" she replied
in a normal voice.
She didn't rattle any chains
or moan or float around like
a helium balloon --
and, quite frankly, I was
at a loss to know what she wanted
of me. If anything.
"Was there something you wanted
to communicate to me?" I finally asked her.
"Like the meaning of existence or maybe
a warning about global warming or somethin'?"
She began to disintegrate, breaking up into
tiny yellow pieces.
Before she was gone she said:
"Tell everyone to bring lots of quarters.
There's none here and the washers
and dryers won't take anything else."
Then she was gone.
When I woke up the next morning
I went down to the bank to get
a roll of quarters.
But then decided that was a
foolish thing to do.
Cuz, see, I'm gonna go
nudist in the Great Beyond.
