Friday, August 9, 2019


A spectral deposit
materializes in my account
A lonesome consolation prize
A monetary haunt

Is there a sadder refund
than the one you get
when the concert's cancelled
because the singer's dead?

There will be no more set lists
to snatch from the foot of the stage.
No more new lyrics to scream
in gleeful rage.

Who will write songs
that express our grief
that you're no longer here
to write songs to express our grief?

Thirty three dollars and sixteen cents
Paid for an invisible ticket
I'll spend it on some liquor instead
Put on some records, uncork that bottle
Sing toast after toast after toast
and swallow your ghost

for D.B.

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