He is sand now, he is crumbs
and not even dumped into
the river like he wanted.
Not much grayer than
he was when he still lived.
A cardboard box with a soggy bottom
The thunk of plastic wheels
bumping over the curb.
About what he expected.
but not what he deserved.
Disrespectful? Rotten.
Presumed and not consulted.
Consumd and then insulted.
I am mindless. I am numb.
I am out of ink and dumb.
I look around, gather the last
of what he left behind.
Assemble the scraps and bind them
into…what? Aw, crap.
Another fucking book.
No comments:
Post a Comment