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Apr 2018
The music wasn't all that good.
But I didn't notice it that much
because I was lost in the
metaphorical resonances
of listening to a dead man's
favorite music.

It felt wrong,
holding a book while most others
held only tears and a bag of chips.

I wasn't a friend is his, and no.
We weren't related.
I'd never met him in my life
and yet there I stood,
mourning the loss of a man
with apparent terrible music taste.

Moral of the story:
Don't take a poet to the funeral of a man they've never met.
This was quite the experience to write!
I went to a public funeral with my dad for a man I didn't know because he was from my town.
It's a bit harsh, no?
***
S K Anderson
Written by
S K Anderson  18/F/neverland
(18/F/neverland)   
270
 
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