Sonnet

Count Basie and His Orchestra the fun’ral service play

Let cats cut rugs as flappers kipple till the break of day

Let vodka and tequila flow with whiskey through the crowd

And every thought be spoken and each speech be laughed aloud

Release the clowns!  The dancing bears!  Have Nero play his lyre

Confetti streets and motorcades and factories on fire

Shall light the way for mourners come with sparklers and balloons

No thorny walls, no teardrop falls, save for in old cartoons

I am not a dying gate, Porphyria yet lives

The maelstrom is a thing for fools who ledger as they give

And shout demands with silent looks, and club with flowers, cards and books

I can yet travel by the day and cross the running brooks

Be damned to rivers!  Tributaries never brought me joy

In anything!  Cast down the ocean!  The kraken is a toy

For old Greek ghosts who kill their hosts and sieve for water at the coasts

Those who go outside and live are those who ‘member me the most

Seal me in and face me down, dry wood and broken bone

If I am to be interred, best if I go alone