We shall pass away
Die
Before you
Or I
make a dusted nickle
from our sticky prevarications
Our summations
The declarations
Of self we purport
To be of some interest
To others  other than us

We shall fade like whispers
In a noisy room
With  OUR echoes
Muffled
Tucked away
Until we
Are dirt-bound

Oh, we will be remembered
Recalled
Even misquoted
After
After

And when we are dead
We
Will guide
The stars
In
New Poets' skies
And dust off those nickles
So that they shine