| I was always solitary, sedentary, inside and outside,
Whether physical or philosophical,
In good health or out,
And I expect I'll yet be stone cold still and unexcited
When I'm laid to rest in that quiet dismal cemetery out there
Amid the moldering monuments,
Whether of Greatness or Mediocrity,
Where it's doubtful I'll be happy
Cohabiting that gumbo soil
With all the goddamn bugs and fire ants!
|
The rat splats.
ReplyDelete