Under Stone

What a waste of land
land, the cemetery--

tucking bodies under

green plush, a keepsake

for this world

means nothing in the

next.

I think of Jack

stuffed in a box

under stone

and they go on

visiting him,

to litter with bottles and snapshots

for social media,

Hey lookit, Ma! it's me

and that old beat--

Hell, they should've buried 'em

on Desolation Peak.

Lit a pipe, said a prayer (his favorite, maybe)

and danced and fucked right

on the settling mound

for all eternities to come

for he has returned to mud and dirt

to continue his quest

'cross the universe

collecting other consciousness--

"Ti Jean--"

Nothing but bone now.

He would've slept there

in all the open fields of the world

under stars

with friends

but not like this.