DEAD

DEAD
I don’t give a damn
what people do with me
after I die
and I don’t have any weird requests
for my ashes
to be poured
over children’s chocolate sundaes
or for my body to be embalmed
and paraded around town
but I do hope
that when I’m dead
people don’t say that I’ve
“passed away”
or “expired”
or “is deceased”
or “left the body.”
because when I die
it means I “died”
and when I’m under ground
or splattered across a railroad track
or cut apart in pieces
and stuck in some
psycho killer’s freezer
it simply means I’m “dead.”
and there’s nothing wrong
with being dead
it happens to everybody now and again