If we sit side by side now,
and say nothing for a whole half hour,
and you say only that we get on fine without words,
and you move away a little, for a good look at the grave almost opposite us,
and you roll your eyes at me, because the dead are not to be laughed at,
and you’ll sit alone on the bench I’m sitting on,
I’ll be opposite you, opposite you, lying prone.
Read the author’s “Made in the Rain”