By Christopher Caldwell
I am not in mourning
I do not eat the funeral cakes.
On Warm afternoons I sit on the porch
And stare into the orange-gray sky
I have forgotten the children who cry.
Sometimes the sun dapples the cement
And I sit gratefully in the glow and the heat
And watch as breezes fondle crabgrass.
It is not a bad life.
You ask why I do not write about roses
And beaches and languid sunrises
But waste my time on weeds and sorrow
And sun-cracked ugliness?
Because sometimes crabgrass is beautiful.
Christopher Caldwell is a 21 year old in Los Angeles. He can be reached at email@example.com or via http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Lofts/9010