The three of take our walk in the cemetery          
          chatting about burials, cremation, headstones
Always the educator, one says she desires               
                a monument of historical columns                  
                 Tuscan, Doric, Ionic, Corinthian      
     though her family graveyard is far from civilization.
One says her husband will be wrapped               
               in a shroud, has pre-paid
           his green burial on a friend’s horse farm.
She plans only to continue
            her rigorous exercise routine.   I joke
              that like my mother, she expects
                             never to die.
I wish my ashes to be scattered secretly
         within my favorite nature sanctuary, a leafy celebration
            where friends are to recall my good fortune
         at having lived so long following my transplant.

                        Later, a jolt

  Some day there will be only two of us walking

                                      And then one  

                                     And then none