Memento Mori

a poem by Prasenjit Maiti

Sunflowers outside these years are now dead
and Neal Cassady tee-shirts are quite brazen
against the days and the nights.
The grass was blue and the sky was green
the flush cackles all the while
in all those washrooms all over the place
the wash colors wearing a smirk
and an infatuation dead
with kaleidoscope eyes.
She is wet in her laughter
and dead like nobody’s business
the day the music died.
So bye-bye Miss American Pie
she was not really the sun
and nothing under the sun was
in a tune
the days and nights are making out
on the rocks across drizzles
and used rubber
her cheeks prized open
and her hands in prayer.