LAST EXIT
My dream death
Is to expire in the back seat
of a limousine.
Drunk with champagne.
High on skunk weed.
Maybe in the company
of a movie queen.
Anyone…
Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
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Like the poem and the photo is fantastic.
Miss you my Brother. 2013