September doesn't really care
for the ruby slippers
or the hard queen
or the soft queen.
Nature is rather hard
to offend at bottom.
The yard wears a fresh groom
next door and the poem
is always almost in love,
wondering why there are no elevators
or even escalators in cemeteries.
It seems a very Roman idea
and almost glamorous. La Scala
such a wonderful way to say goodbye.
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