Back when I was a railbird for my mother at the track
I used to think about that body buried out back
Nor could even all those quarters from the fountains I stole
Mitigate this circumstance then out of my control
At Grandma's house that I was not supposed to talk about
I used to drink about it later wondering who
He was and what he thought about it or what I could do
Then someday in a seance when he said he was fine
And was nineteen but in between he was a friend of mine
Who found himself forever for never finding out
Where we grew up at Grandma's house there juxtaposed somehow
I had to go he had to stay and he is still there now
+Steven Curtis Lance
Copyright MMXII
Photo of the back where the body is by Lindsey Hastings, The Laughing Daffodil
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Jane Elin