Jack Dawe converted on
his death bed, hoping for
a last minute redemption,
by becoming a Buddhist.

Waking up next day, he
felt sun rays on his face,
right in the middle of a
freshly ploughed field.

It was old McDonald’s farm,
they used a French Fries-Box
for his hat, then they stuffed
an old suit, with coke straws.

Drills were straight as far
as his eyes would permit. At
the end, a tree, early Spring,
he could see crows. Nesting.

Weeks passed, the hatchlings
left their high perches, totally
ignoring him, it was then he
noticed, on his shoulder, a chip.