Overseas (Epilogue) - Armand Hammer

Fried death washed down with Coke

Comfortable how I post, divided the gross

At four they kitchen table surrounded by ghosts

Ghanaian grandmother watching American soaps

«Yo, she don’t speak no English?»

He shrugged like let’s go

As far as the rest don’t really remember

Being honest it’s just another day in September

Looking back he knew it was over when he said

«Chances are slender.»

What composure?

Bury me at sea

One last photograph stiffed in blood streaked

Bury Me a G on repeat

Your story don’t add up like Warren G

Genuflected

Grabbed the feat, heaved him in on three

Each man sinks with the sum of they deeds

Cassette tapes delivered by couriers, the consolutes anonymous

A great weight lifted, yet felt listless

Ocean bottomless

Save the date down there with the crabs and octopus

Set the bait, wait, watching yourself through binoculars