Why didn't I get swallowed in the wind that blew our way,
standing aloof uninspired by people's sympathies?
In sun's heat, under the tree--exchanging smiles for pity sighs;
You in the shade, I in the sun, learning the language of departure
as it escapes the anus of selfless labourers. There's absence in watching
dust hit dust as shovels scrape ground, around peeking memorials,
watching silence sing choruses we daren't; re-theming the past;
as we, in the median time, visit our desires and let our eulogy tarry.