Because cemeteries are too pricey
I would like to be deposited on a public bench
and not in the earth
but in the middle of September
at the end of wonder:
wrap me in newspapers, darlings,
and run!

I want to live my death 
on a public bench
next to a barbershop—
die when it is time to cut my hair so I can save four dollars!
I was always happy in barbershops.
Now happiness,
come blow your nose in my hands—

I want to die on a public bench—
those who watch me in
the street
something in him wants to be entered and picked clean.

Be careless, life!
Wrap me in newspaper on a park bench
so some enterprising schoolchild