The gardener often failed to see
The beauty of a common weed

You stand there praised, celebrated
Your mutterings now vindicated

Her chest tattoo said “No Regrets”
They buried her with cigarettes

A bottle of wine, a single rose
An accidentally broken nose

The farmer silently plants his corn
Thinking of piglets recently born

Tiny stars float overhead
Which are living, which are dead?

Outside the thrift store, soaked through with rain
A dog-eared copy of The Human Stain

Bald man in jeans and a t-shirt fade
Solemnly walks from the mall’s arcade

Her fingers were slender, mere slivers of bone
From years of inspecting rotary phones

Butter and pancakes, slices of pear
A small table and a wobbly chair