Issue 227, Winter 2018
Because cemeteries are too pricey
I would like to be deposited on a public bench
and not in the earth
but in the middle of September
at the end of wonder:
wrap me in newspapers, darlings,
I want to live my death
on a public bench
next to a barbershop—
die when it is time to cut my hair so I can save four dollars!
I was always happy in barbershops.
come blow your nose in my hands—
I want to die on a public bench—
those who watch me in
something in him wants to be entered and picked clean.
Be careless, life!
Wrap me in newspaper on a park bench
so some enterprising schoolchild