Running Scar
Here lies a grave,
a conglomerate headstone
without a name.
Weeds and cobwebs
wrapped tight around the heartless edge.
Caretaker whips around in a rusty John Deere,
Waking the dead and stirring mud.
Pretending he's a NASCAR stud.
He takes his lunch beneath a tree,
eating Twinkies with green fingertips...
For his love he'll steal a wreath,
and place it gently on her grave.
That bears a scar called, 'long forgotten"
A grave he's coined "no name".
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