much
about the funeral, being
a friend of a friend,
of a friend,
but i went just the same.
did it rain?
perhaps,
was there weeping?
of course there was.
but what i remember most
was the lobster tails
on the long white
table,
the tubs of melted butter
and bibs,
at someone's home,
a distant aunt, who seemed
pleased
to serve a banquet,
whether you grieved or
didn't grieve,
pull up a chair, she said,
make
yourself at home.
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