Godard-grey December twilight
pilgrim-pressed gum blobs
on the nearest tree to Jim Morrison,
his barricaded grave.
Still?
The black and white grave cat doesn’t care.
Hello Oscar and Marcel
Hello Alice B. and Richard Wright
Oh! Hi there Isadora Duncan and Ana Karina
Moss-covered, crumbling vaults,
collapsed monuments to once great men,
no family or fans to still tend.
An ancient man sweeping clean the granite slab
over the four-hundred-year-old family
the C-shaped woman bent over her cane
taxi waiting for her to finish flowering
her respects while laughter
spills down the steep chapel steps.
Leave no physical trace. Scatter
my ashes to the wind, let
the good energy I scattered
to the universe be
my monument.

