I wake to watch the days wake passing, the mourning trees by the window slits, late sunlight pouring.

I move my ear to listen and imagine, "The name of Ram is the truth" But they don't invoke those funerary chants here.

Maybe this sub lit day should be called Alice, a believer being lowered in a cask Of mahogany, the only permanence it will know.

The fleeting seconds, triple distilled, are invoked within me, it happened even last Night. Souls who die unfulfilled become ghosts.

They say. So I ask now, how does one exorcise them? What are the dark voodoo Secrets I must know? Whisper as you whispered.

The words and the world into me, "I love you", with our tongues entwined. I don't salivate for that anymore, you asked me to

Get out. So as I packed my books and my insecurities, you had already turned your back, the bones of your spine, fine lines of Golden Gate shivering in the Pacific.

Funerals cost twenty five thousand dollars here, so I read. And since I had forgotten to buy insurance, I stand naked. No I am not shameless, I wear clothes and hide it.

Trains are pulling out of the station, sudden faces watch me as lights flash on my face, and last daylight is stealing in on cat paws and around the corner,

A funeral awaits me every evening.

2001:12:14 15:30 Atlanta I wrote this when I awoke at 3.00 pm in the afternoon and saw that theday was ending without my asking.