(written on way to dentist, rush-hour)

The car music was Mozart
under a soft blue
fall morning sky.
Few commuters noted
the black smoke escaping
a roadside mortuary
beside the sign
that promised “Dignity”.
Whatever had been tangible,
loved or unloved,
was gone in a puff.

Overhead, a Sundance balloon
floated to meet
whatever else freed.
Otherwise, it was
a pretty good day ‘to be’
either alive or dead–
whether conscious, or not.


footnote–this piece was subconsciously inspired by a Hugh Hood short story “Flying a Red Kite” and the N.F.B. film “The Red Kite”. p.s./On January 2015, in a stroke of irony, the funeral chapel aforementioned had a crippling fire which shut it down, the smokestack now standing exposed.

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