Braddock's father dashing and debonair
with botox and flash new head a hair
he was looking sixty in his eighties
and ready for newage dating
The ghost to our left was undecided
In a physical form that would hold her
curly grey hair past her shoulders
grin of thunderous aspiration
whatever she knew that we didn't
Obviously gave her pleasure
Braddock's father died hair
shiny face waxed fair
don't bring roses she said
In a language now dead
he asked her to translate and assuage
the fact roses reminded her of old age
for they spend as long opening
as they do in the vase wilting
People just throw them out early
To keep the truth from unfurling
Three driveways got us here
we stand at the center we care
Braddock's father will marry the ghost
The blessing delivered to guest and host
The past overgrown litter and oil stains
the present open and well maintained
and the future goes onto the horizon
seducing ignorant hearts never to wizen
Keep the roses out of the ceremony
If one dies the other feels lonely
stay neutral and expressionless externally
Celebrate jubilant illusions of eternity
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