We’ll be river otters

A prose poem by Dusti RWF

Photo by NASA on Unsplash

When I’m reborn, I’ll have endless noodles and root beer floats. A closet full of the same suit, just like Olivia in Fringe, but not for the same reason. Every Windham Hill album ever made, alphabetized by artist name, will be lovingly displayed on black, perfectly-square wall-mounted shelves. My coffee pot will be bottomless, my lavender lemonade served with fresh rosemary. A freezer full of the…