a jogging death

i believe that
death is like this:
you open your door
to the warm night
and you begin to run

your face
goes slack eyes
half close
your mind bobs nearby
a chattery voice 
indistinguishable
from the humid air

your feet
carry your body
like a boat
like a parade float
that fits the whole universe on it
and every living thing
is waving nicely to you