Tattoos in Mayberry

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When my remains are scattered as dust to the four winds
Little is left but ash to be swept up and shoveled
into the kindling pile
by the low redwood fence.
Next to the hill of beer cans
in the back corner of my yard
near the waterlogged coffee cans
filled with stagnant collected rainwater
bobbing with rusty syringes
When I'm dead
and I've made peace 
with why you didn't care
You were never there.
Always off somewhere
Ordered me to cut my hair.
Never had a spare.
With your best intentions
talking your smack
Til my arteries filled up
with plaque.
priming me for a massive heart attack.
On my tombstone there will be
a fitting effigy
For you and all those wayward 
minions to see.
 my parting statements

my headstone will say these
words I have carefully  chosen
'Nobody listened to me until after I was dead'.
A fitting final statement 
to all those
multitudes dis-invested
of my salient
bullet points never tested.
In addition,  etched in limestone
in the lower margins
it will read
'thank you
for finally listening.'

Copyright January 1/18/2015 8:39pm All Rights Are Reserved By This Author
Buddy Bee Anthony






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