Death in Hampden

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I want to be impaled
on a pink flamingo
laid out on
John Waters lawn.
I want to see cat eye
glasses mist up
while Kix plays
the Colts marching song.

I want to hear tributes
in Roosevelt Park
extolling my humor
and charm.
I want to know
mourners: both
family and friends
do actually give a darn.

I want to be buried
in black and orange;
clutching my
Mike Bordick bat.
With two balls which
bear the name of Tom Phoebus
and my fading
Curt Blefary hat.

I want fragrant flowers
say, Black-eyed Susan’s
to drape my pine
shipping box.
I want half a page
of newspaper print;
memories from that
cherub named Jacques.

But even with tributes,
and flowers and song
and ink in
the Baltimore Sun,
One thing I would ask
writ upon that
“Thanks for dropping in on us, Hon!”

(Lede photo: Image by Davgood Kirshot from Pixabay)

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