A Pall

Irony brought me to this earth.

Irony will remove me the same.

Six pallbearers too busy worrying

about a slip, a fall, or a facial fault.

The world will not suffer a massive pall,

a temporary drought or hurricane,

a California firestorm, or a mountain landslide,

or an apocalyptic visit by your Jesus.

None of that for me, just a quiet song

“great gig in the sky,” or maybe a Lindsey

and Stevie lullaby, my little act of humanism.

This is my word to the world no one will hear.

“Say Goodbye.”