Here lies a grave,
a conglomerate headstone
without a name
weeds and webs
wrapped tight around the heartless edge.
Caretaker rides his rusty deer
pretending he's a nascar stud
waking the dead and stirring mud.
He take's his lunch beneath a tree,
eating twinkies with green fingertips...
and for his love he'll steal a wreath,
and place it gently on a grave
that bears a scar called, long forgotten
a grave he calls
Copyright © Anthony Slausin | Year Posted 2011