When My Heart Stops
funeral attendance won’t exceed six.
The pastor will just drag my pine-box
to the cold and shallow ditch.

I’ll probably be buried with no socks
in a tacky suit that barely fits.
My father will keep staring at the clock;
trying not to miss the Yankees’ first pitch.

When it is time for remarks
it’ll be quiet – because I never had a niche.
My wife will use her teardrops 
to loosen my wedding ban into her fist.

My death will be a gain in the stocks
so all of my enemies will become rich.
No headstone to mark where my body rots,
just my initials penciled on a couple of bricks.

When My Heart Stops
everyone on Earth benefits.

By Darryl Walker Jr

(c) Copyright 2016-2017

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