t's so hard to walk in this old town anymore
since the cemetery took over every inch.
Wherever you go ghosts nibble your toes.
Dead people pretend to smile, but are resentful
Their mouths mumble but they say nothing.
The grave stones are shaped like former houses.
The lanes between them like streets you strolled.
Now the invisible exerts a ruthless domain.
There is not a nickel coke to be found.
Only empty glasses and bloodless lips.
Rather than become a flâneur of the lost,
I'd rather just stay inside and remember.
It's so hard to walk in this old town anymore.