Tinted Windows
Slowly the procession passes by,
large black limousines like snails
creeping along, the village street
where a gathering crowd watches
black-draped mourners through
tinted windows.
Everyone I know liked the mayor,
a genteel fellow, hale, well-met,
died of unknown causes; that is,
unknown to the common folks
lining streets, glimpsing through
tinted windows.
Rumors say it was too much wine,
women, drugs, suicide, some think,
a heart attack of ancestral origins,
sudden, inexplicable, in the minds
of the curious looking through
tinted windows.
written July 27, 2021
Copyright © L Milton Hankins | Year Posted 2021
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