Batteries

This morning, 

the mechanical car 

refused to drive. 

I told him 

it was okay, 

the batteries just died. 

A trip to the pantry, 

a few turns of the screws

the lights flash again 

and I wonder 

what lessons 

I am teaching him. 

Death is not impermanent, 

there is no reset button, 

no charger that brings us back 

from beyond. 

Yesterday, 

we ate dinner 

and argued over who 

would wash the dishes. 

Tomorrow, 

you may be stolen 

too soon from my arms. 

Why do we wait? 

Why do we live 

like tomorrow is a promise? 

We know better.