The girls in the graveyard
Get up and start bowling with somebody's skull;
They form a league
And do it every tuesday night.
They sit on the headstones smoking,
Dissing the living,
While the moon rises cold
And the stars glitter bright.
One gets bored,
And she hops the wrought-iron fence;
Shambling into town
For a less stifling atmosphere.
She climbs in a window.
A woman's bedroom window.
"Is that you, Ed?"
"It ain't Ed...dear."
And after a little time,
After not long a time,
They are sitting in the dark and smoking;
A couple of chattering magpies.
"I've been dead
For a very long time."
"Tell me about it, sugar.
Trust me, so have I."
Confidences lead to kisses
And the blood begins to flow again;
A little Olay and a little oh my,
And neither one of them ever felt so alive.
They join a couples league
And they do it every tuesday night
While a lover's moon shines gold
And the stars,
note: I have recently seen this poem attributed to someone else. It is MY poem.