the ninety-nine-year-old

nowadays
she wants to die.
all because of
some pain in her neck
that the rest of us
cannot fathom.
she sneaks off
while we sleep,
climbs to the top
of the highest hill,
and waits
to be struck
by so-and-so
meteor shower
that she read about
in the news.
as always,
it passes overhead,
killing someone
in the distance,
younger,
more beautiful.