Only three days and four liters of formaldehyde earlier,
I nervously chuckled at how vulnerable I was:
Shitting on a Starbucks toilet with only a thin door
between me and people audibly ordering their lavish caffeines,
while I hoped my splashes and farts could not be overheard
from my dirty ass — only a door knob away from public laughter.
Now, after the search for a cause, I lay here sliced and diced,
dressed far nicer than I’ve ever been, while forced tears fall.
And from my cheap casket I can somehow see my daughter
shamelessly hitting on one of the young limo drivers in the parking lot.
— by Sabio Lantz May 2014 (from draft March 2013)
Posted for Open Link Night @ d’Verse Poet Pub