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February 09, 2009


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excellent thinking. a growth business.

This completely knocked me out. From deadpan to bedpan. LOL as my daughters say, or type. One question, Mitch: since poets don't have any money either, can you offer like a plot discount to poets? As a fiction writer, you've probably got a lot of plots you're not using. Will someone make sure my grave is kept clean? Is there a condo fee?

I think you should leave the trampoline - for the mourners. You could fit graves underneath of it, and the bereaved could jump on it to cheer themselves up. Or, if they didn't like whomever they were burying, they could pretend they were jumping on that person's head. You could make Trampoline Glade the premium spot in your cemetery and charge extra for those plots. Looks like you could fit about three departed underneath it.

Also, as Jim points out, you need to provide upkeep. You're going to rake the leaves anyway, so charge another $500 for perpetual care. You could also enlist some of your poet friends to compose dirges or elegies, charge say, about $250 per dirge, and split the fee. You and your fiction buddies could write eulogies, too - and jazz 'em up. No one will complain. $250 per eulogy; $300 for a really jazzy one.

This could work. You could become the Donald Trump of the backyard funeral business!

PS. You could fit even more if you buried people in layers, say three layers per plot. That's what they do at military cemeteries. Spouses' coffins go right on top of the military personnel's.

If you made it niches for urns, you could cram in a whole truckfull.

Don't overlook the trees, either.

Great idea - that's where the urns could go!

You could also enlist some of your poet friends to compose dirges or elegies, charge say, about $250 per dirge, and split a banana and say: Awesome.
Awesome is the world.

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I left it
on when I
left the house
for the pleasure
of coming back
ten hours later
to the greatness
of Teddy Wilson
"After You've Gone"
on the piano
in the corner
of the bedroom
as I enter
in the dark

from New and Selected Poems by David Lehman

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Ringfinger was nervous
Pinky terrified
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that Hand might succumb
to the rule of Thumb.



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