My mother announces that when she dies, she wants to be buried like the pharaohs. We talk over the phone and I imagine her sitting in what used to be my father’s green chair, surveying the frames and cabinets that crowd the walls, feet bouncing on the footstool, the black poodle perched alertly on her lap. I ask her why and she cackles back: “Because they get to take all their stuff with them!”
They come from bars and frat houses,
Chins sporting the last chug’s dregs;
They’ve shut down the POTUS block
Down lawn chairs! Time to tap the kegs!
“Na na na! Hey hey hey! Goodbye!”
Caught in the unstoppered ear—
Perspective fails the sloppy street
It’s just one terrorist’s career!
What giant wheels when Brezhnev sent
Red troops into Afghanistan;
House of Saud and CIA,
Tipped shots to Charlie Wilson’s plan.
The people of Egypt revolted against an entrenched dictator with a horrible civil rights record and won their freedom.Oh, and some priceless shit was stolen from their museum as well.
Rolling around on the grass in front of a Kingdom Hall when my family were all Jehovah’s Witnesses.My father was speaking to the congregation that day.It was sunny, about 70 degrees.
I dunno,something else with a slash in it.I like slashes.Probably a bouncer/bartender or a dishwasher/cook.
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