The Corpse: A Eulogy for Joe Payne

The field is idyllic in the rising sun. An ideal setting for a picnic, perhaps, were it not for the abandoned beige Crown Victoria squat low beside the tree line on four spare tires. Were she so curious to approach, our dear Alice would be welcomed by the pungent stench of death. Curioser still, she'd perceive an interior redolent with the scent of Little Trees as black as ice commingled with the unmistakable funk of rotting meat.

For inside the trunk of the car lies a body lifeless, useless and teeming with vermin. A vacant stare through eyes unlidded, or rather de-lidded, after a drug deal gone sour, premortem, the coroner will conclude being the time its palpebrae were extracted.

Urged by morbidity, Alice enters the trunk for a closer look (What a story to tell! Would her friends believe?) Awake, yet dead, the carcass appears transfixed by a scene from inside the consuming void of the confined space, of a chorus of coarse laughter from schoolchildren at play. Mixing Pop Rocks and soda with a scoop they are easily entertained, while a lonely little girl bounces a Voit-brand rubber ball absently upon the playground's concrete terrain. Its syncopated dribble merging with the rhythm of an aged amputee roving in a motorized chair, reciting "Fancy Dancer" by Commodores a cappella in a gravely refrain. His electric wheels wheezing-boy, they could use some greasing-erratic across the hardwood hospice floor.

Zooming in on the face of death, a satellite surveys the ground. 500 miles above the clouds, it stares at a valley far west. Hardest, the heart of the sun now beats at the dead of noon, as flecks of patina glitter and wane amidst dried windswept dunes. From orange to red, brown to black, 10,000 years of sun-kissed rock lay. The desert varnish, if left untouched, for 10,000 more it will stay. Though in the interval of that delay, two voices will persist to this day, to shatter the silence of the wind's eroding violence behind the clay's slow decay...

Singing Amputee: (soulful): "She's a fancy dancer..."

Little Girl (echoing): "Sometimes I feel so..."

Singing Amputee: "Such a real good feelin' child"

Little Girl: "... dead inside."

Singing Amputee: "Even when there ain't no sound..."

Singing Amputee: "... visions of you..."

Little Girl: "Maybe if I..."

Singing Amputee: "... my love dancin' in my head."

Singing Amputee: "I say, baby, wow, hoo hoo..."

Little Girl: "... Close my eyes long enough..."

Singing Amputee: "Do it baby, you look so good."

Little Girl: "... I can disappear..."

Singing Amputee: "Girl, ow! You're a fancy dancer."

Zooming, still from its place beyond, presumed a star to some tribes. Its aerial view discloses a scene under its watchful orbiting eye.

* * *

Idling at the edge of the lot
Sits a vehicle with its headlamps cut low
On the driver's side he folds up his sleeve
Revealing a constellation of pinpricks starting to grow

Reaching into his breast pocket
He withdraws the tools of his trade
Uncasing syringe and tourniquet
Fitting his forearm through the hoop
It's a cinch and he's ready to go

'Trusty Rusty', his metal dipper
He did so lovingly name
Fished out from under the passenger's side
With a flick the Bic is ablaze

Touching the flame to the bowl
Gleaming silvery right underneath
Suction delivers the bubbling black tar
Into the hypo it seeps

Enduring the light pain of the muzzle's graze
Shooting up, fizzle, pop and up he soars!

Experiencing a brief supernova with a gram
From the comfort of his luxury sedan

Sun and moon, fire and spoon
Eclipsing into unconsciousness
While lampposts cast shadows of both jogger and dog walker
Aghast at something amiss

As to what at first glance cannot be mistook
For a shape that's run its course
The picture of a figure slumped over-is it?
Why, yes, it is a corpse

Upon the asphalt, the sight gains attention
As a crowd forms 'round the Crown
To gesture for help and offer their concern
While voices above are heard

To R&B standards on the balcony
They rave in a festive fashion
Under the burned out light
Of the Dying Moon
Shining forlorn and forsaken