Simple headstones, dated,
only affording initials,
‘Katie’ could afford the time
to scratch her’s on the face
of the screwed lead plate,
her vertical memorial
before she gets to die;
and the tramp, with a cycle,
lay his copper-only coins
across his palm, not enough
to grant his inner fortune-teller
any hope of good news:
Under his stained hat and beard
there crosses a longer story.
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