By lies while alive he thrived
And now here he lies still
A life faintly lived
A ferocious dog he never barked
Just doodled his brave thoughts
Winning wars on papers that nobody read
And now I have to dig his grave
I of all people
Have to dirty my Italian designer suit
Have to make his epitaph
Tribute to an uncelebrated poet
What on earth am I supposed to write?
Here lies he who signaled left then turned right?
Am I supposed to shed a tear too?
A tear for him or for my poor hands
Getting blistered by this hard rock
Should I follow his wish?
And make his grave a foot deeper?
Forget him Mario
Rest a while now
Puff a light; pillow your head on this tombstone
Watch those eagles flying in the sky
The only mourners at his funeral
Mourning this poet
Who loved life but never lived it
If she was worth the bullet he took?