Oh Mama I know you don’t like it
when I bring up my funeral.
You always want to change the subject,
what with your practical mind
but I say a man gets buried once, and once is enough
so I will lay it out:
I want a second line, sure
but in both directions, with no sad marching coffin-carry
joy all the way, for you know I am free
and everyone at the after-party should bring a dish
some favorite taste to linger in their mouth
remind them of me their whole life through
