Ash-Monday

the day's that warm and humid

one can't help but hear

oneself thinking -

like delirium

or a fever under water;

" kid's dead ", he says.

" died at about 7:30 this morning mate. "

but the truck still gotta be loaded

and then unloaded afterwards, knowing,

that nothing's as real as losing.

there's gonna be a funeral

tomorrow or the next day, or maybe friday,

The Burial of the Dead;

we're all gonna be wearing black suits,

smoking cigarettes and telling each other

how sad it all is

and how life just goes on -

our last goodbye,

nothing there left to be done.