I want this read at my funeral,
except I don’t want a funeral.

Inscribe it on my headstone,
Except there won’t be one.

Ashes poured into a cardboard pot
With a willow tree; write with charcoal

So the words get eaten up and cast out
Into the wind with the fallen leaves;

“A few final solutions, like a duet
With the undertaker: a voice in the clouds…”

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