Here I am,
resting in the grave,
waiting for the pariah
to make me free
from the burden
of wreaths
when you have gone
This emotion of
exhibitionist rituals
is callous, absurd!
Why kill more lives
to decorate the dead?
Instead
recall the exotic aroma
of the beautiful flowers
the way they were exalted
with your erotic fragrance
when we walked together
agreeably, arm in arm!
This poem originally written in 1969 on my 18th birthday, was discovered yesterday in my files of old papers.
