by John Rocco

The dead like it here.

You can tell by the way

the hot skinny stray dogs

drink from the spigot.

In the middle of it all:

Man & Woman

pulling drawn inescapable

into the mouth of death

called Monument aux Morts.

Me and Jim

potless weedless

smokeless in a hot

foreign Paris lost

looking for

Lizard King grave.

Don’t find it

but walk into

band of sitting kids

smoking drinking

just back from

Amsterdam.

They invite us to

join them.

One day I’ll write

a novel called FUR

to thank those

dead kid angels.

Life & Death

were never so

stoned together.