by Richard Eberhart
My death was arranged by special plans in Heaven
And only occasioned comment by ten persons in Adams, Massachusetts.
The best thing ever said about me
Was that I was deft at specifying trump.
I was killed by my father
And married to my mother
But born too early to know what happened to me,
And as I was an only child
I erected selfishness into a personal religion,
Sat thinking forty years saying nothing.
I observed all. I loved to drink gin,
Would not have thought to go farther
Into arcane episodes of the heavier drugs,
And, being New England, always remained sober.
However, I confess now, I was
Always afraid of women,
I don't know why, it was just the way it was,
I could never get very close to any woman.
Knowledge and intelligence allowed me
The grand rationalization of this; also, I respected
Delicacy, but would not go too far in any direction.
I thought I was a good man. I was.
I did not obstruct the state, nor religion,
But I saw through both and maintained my independence.
I kept my counsels among the learned.
My learning was more private and precious than worldly.
The world had no sense of the devious,
So my private vicissitudes were mine alone.
I say all this with a special sort of grace
For I avoided many of the pitfalls of fallen man
And while I did not have heroic size, the
Creative grandeur, or mastership of the mind
I earned my bread by cynicism alone,
And blow you all a kiss from the tomb.
Last updated April 25, 2023