Death of a Writer - Her Space Holiday

If the death of a writer brings life in his readers

Then what does that mean that we?

re still breathin?

All of us have learned our words

Some of us have less and some have more but

They?

re all equally capable of ruining things for

A simple kiss to an apology

To a I miss a eulogy and

It all depends how you tap those typing keys

Like a dusty old sack under that magazine rack

We?

re just a floor full of issues

With our burdens printed on our backs

One time in Texas as I browsed those endless aisles

And I thumbed through those volumes

And sifted through those piles

I wondered if they could go back in time

Would they twist the plot and move a lot and

Are they haunted by their reprints late at night

And I thought about my own tales

And how often the hero failed and

Should I do some revising of my own

A warped piece of wax on that gramophone mat we just

Spin and spin and spin as our pasts

Keep on playing back

Be careful what you wish for