sing

there is a cemetery across the street.
i want to visit it but i'm not sure
if i should. i wonder what people do
in the black all day. it would be a
stupid mistake to take a coffee over,
to puruse gravestones and rub up,
raking my thoughts along the soft ground.
a few people think they can change the
tone of death. in this world
only a few people change tone.
you're probably a tune after you die.
someone comes up with a melody in the shower
and forgets it by dinner.
but anyhow, everyone needs a song.