Will that friend of mine come to my memorial?
Will my ashes fit in that cigar box?
Will my literature translate through pages to my great great great grandchildren?
Will anyone be as painfully aware of my persona?
Is there an unembarrassing solution to my questions?
Poor Walt, editing away at 1855 pure brilliance for the rest of his years
Decency derives from intense dimensions
And its such a mess
Such love and detest