Cemetery Grass

A billowing sheet of white geese Trundle across the street Onto grass rich and green From winter melt Black river rolls like a fat man Trying to get outta the way Stumbles and falls On smooth gray rocks And tumbles merrily away Sweet scent of decay passing Cemetery opposite the river Headstones flowing over hills To distant and future days Feet ache a little on the asphalt I'm old not dead Walk the water down Geese eating cemetery grass In my wake Probably raining in Arizona But I'll stay here a while Maybe go to Boston Easy in North Country And won't be family here To visit soon So, yeah, probably hit Boston Then I don't know Be grass to cut when I get home Say hi to the bars for a week or two And I'll be looking for Somewhere to go Something to do