Prejudice

I said to the dead man smiling at me
"How do you do??"
He sat, but grinning with missing teeth
And did not reply, "Not bad, and you??"
I fondled his ribs
Now vagrant and hollow
And stuffed marbles in his mouth
To see if he still swallowed
Oh curious am I
About death and its shadow
But boring is the life
All gentle and mellow
My interests range from the verse
Which may be missing all reason
And of women and wine
Of which change with season
And so I turn
To the cold grey stone
Underneath the coffee grind dirt
Staring at half-eaten flesh and bleach white bone.
(Finding some old headless crone)