Next Time Around

I might be an otter
in my next life. Play,
play, eat, copulate,
sleep, repeat.  Turn
endlessly in clear water
and live otter-full. 

Or, in fact,
I might opt
to petrify.  Forget
the living, forget
the problems of individual cells. 
Unified! 

And if I could be pure
sunshine — give up on matter
entirely, disregard the wave or particle
debate in favor of warming things up —

ah.  Utility. 
I’m such an American
I need a job to explain myself.

Giving that up, too,
next time around.