On the day of your funeral,
I walked right by you on a crowded sidewalk.
You were laughing with your mouth
wide open. I could see your teeth.
I could see the creases around your eyes.
I didn't even pause. I brushed right by
and nothing had changed. You were still
dead. Nothing could bring you back,
nothing could fill your lungs with air,
nothing could stop the what-to-come
of a few nice words (albeit brief)
before scattering your ashes
in the early winter air.
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