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Morning funeral 
He was eighty-six
Ready to go, angry about everything.
Tired of being here, irritated he cannot drive any more
Thrilled to go, probably driving a race car in heaven

Green Bay Packers fan
Black and white photo of him at age 3 or 4.
Probably the only one taken until his wedding photo

Murmur amongst the spectators
His widow has arrived with her wheelchair and oxygen tank.
People shuffle, making space.
She is much thinner than her photo,
Looks half her size.
Sweet lady. She is sitting six feet from his body
Not being able to see him at all, too low.

Some knucklehead had placed a dirty block of 
Make-believe cheese on the welcome table with the photos.
Not understanding anything about the Packers, I disposed of it
For them.  Thinking some street bum had placed it there, playing a joke.

This is me, sneaking it back out of the garbage, trying to nonchalantly
Sneak it back onto the table with the other mementos. How did I know the
Green Bay Packers are called the “cheese heads”? 
Sometimes I can be a bit too helpful.

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