I'm going to skip ahead.
This one's called "Casketing."
"I've buried everything I've ever
loved in the bone of reason.
Now, even in dreams you are dead.
Sometimes I wheel your metal-colored coffin
to the grocery store, once to a paperie, twice to Fiesta Bakery
on Pleasanton.
You are heavy.
Once I was in a high school, in a play and parked you
stage left.
Always I shake you, wake up, damn you!
Sometimes the casket is open, and I kick you.
And when in my small shoes I make contact,
your ribs crumble like the bark of an old mesquite.
Wake up, wake up!
We can't run the numbers, argue, make your mother's bread,
if you are always going to be dead."