Obits
you’re born
and live a little
while
and somebody knows you
and nobody does
and you gather yourself
from “Great Expectations”
dark desperation
and hide yourself
behind a wall
and only on your knees
do you let it fall
and day turns tonight
and night turns today
and you chomp
about this
and that
and the other
and everybody loves you
and everybody hates you
and you get in the bed
and you close your eyes
and it’s the closest you’ll get
save the birth of your child
when you first fell in love
and the numbers turn
and you wake up
and you get out of bed –
whatever you call your bed
crib, twin, queen, king
car, street, ditch, bridge
and you go on …
at your best, at your worst
wounded or weary or whole
preceded by … survived by … restored by …
TL