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Paper
All I have is paper.
I have your birth certificate
I have your marriage certificate
I have your death certificate
But I don't have you.

Why.
The web site I've been using to record your short life has this link:
"Delete Death?"
As if it were that easy, if it were..if it were..
I would press that shiny red button and have you back here
Right now.
I have so many questions to ask you

I just want to
know you.
To know what it was like for you
Were you happy, at least until you became sick
Did you have regrets?
Nothing matters to you now.
You are at peace.
I hope.

Row 6973
Plot #6
I would come there tomorrow, if somehow I knew
It would be welcome.
I think that might be the only question I would ever ask you.
Did you love us?
Because I do not know.
You have no control over who visits you
But I have a code, a sworn oath not to disturb those who
Do not wish to talk to you.
And, since you have never wanted to before I can only assume
It would be the same.
Silence.

Cold marble
Grass
Bugs
Wind
Pale washed out fake flowers and faded U.S. flags
Silence.

You wouldn't have all the answers to the meaning of life..
I already have those answers.
It's the light in your own child's eye flashing back at you
I think I just want to know what went wrong in 1972
What happened to you, to her and why did you fight with him
Because
no one will tell me.

So I pick up pieces of paper
Stack them up
File them
Log dates
Times
Names
But..it's not you
And it's all just paper.



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