I go to your funeral and see who’s still alive.
You go to your funeral because.
You’re trapped, ironically, because I’m sure someone
will say something about you being free now.
The groom’s side, I say to the usher, so I will
later fall on my Freudian slip knee, and beg forgiveness
for one for giving an envelope to the woman at the church entrance
I wished were empty, because I have lots of bills
this month, but it’s expected, here in Hawai’i
the ritual of money giving, the gift to the living.
That’s right, even though we were in love once,
I thought, I really can’t afford to be here tonight.
Sitting near the exit, I’m hoping for a quick service
because I need, at our age, to so badly take a pee sometimes.
Then it’s gau gee and potato salad with your husband,
your children, their children. The only thing I’ll eat today.
Every speaker has something nice to say
about you and how you were perfect. Okay.
I think maybe it’s not so much how well you draw,
but who has the heart to pull the trigger first.
* * * * *
Today’s word is
Use it in a piece of writing, or to inspire a piece of writing, and then post that piece as a comment here. I would love to read it : )