deepundergroundpoetry.com

Cemetery Romance

Don't need a key, she and I, just
shoulder our packs up and
over purgatory's gates, my shirt's
always gettin' caught. I wave her
down, hold hands and sprint
past the sensor lights, don't
think the caretaker heard us, do
ya? We slow down near our
favorite stones, the one with the
angel missin' an eye and that
gargoyle-lookin' thing there. Then
there's that mausoleum that you
always talkin' about us livin' in one
day. They're sleepin' in there, they won't
mind us, she says. I get right up the
side of it onto the roof and drop my
arm down to help her up. She sits
cross-legged next to me and throws her
hair to one side, lookin' at me like she
ain't never seen a guy before and pulls
out a bottle of red wine. I tell her I
don't drink, she says that ain't wine.
We take swigs and pass it between us,
whoever ain't drinkin's lookin' up at the
moon. Sometimes we howl. She's got those
teeth for it, y'know? Tells me she could
die tonight, and I tell her, I says,
I tell her let's sleep on it.