tomorrow is february second

black socks
dire straits
straightened up
postured posterier
will that little mother fucker have a shadow?
i see mine all day long
6 more weeks of me
everyday
til the last one comes
will they bury me in those black socks
stand up straight and lay your old man down to die
with the pennies
bugles
bothersome boxes all lined in velour
too much dirt
to hide me beneath
don't plant flowers
the damn groundhog will eat 'em
don't chisel out the
tiny neat olde english letters
deep into the slab of granite
don't light candles
don't say prayers
just wear black socks
curse the fury little shadowed beast
and know
i am better off