It's time for the rehearsal
a hearse rolls
up the gravel driveway
the highway
is closed for business
bunnies
in black suits
hopping along with white flutes
playing along with the tune
coughing in the fumes
the tiny angel is shouting
it's a parade
it's a parade
scratching at boils sprouting
pretending
pretending
the earth isn't covered in something blacker than shade.