Two yards, and a cloud of dust

One of the activities favored by poets and other depressives is to think about the last thing they'll ever see, almost as good a waste of time as golf. If you're lucky enough to be both poet and depressive, it's possible you can hold two images in consciousness at once, thereby having a choice of last things you see.

While I'm fond of many people who use the phrase, 'you know what I mean' frequently in their conversation, I think they should incur some penalty for lazy speechifying. Perhaps a three-strikes rule might apply, wherein the burden of proof is put upon the speaker and not the listener.

As to the last thing you or I will see, you won't see what I see and I won't see what you see. And talking about such things is just another way of passing time.