All I know and preserve
Are moonshine anthems
Joyously, roving
Each mournful mile of skin

I grow old
In their comforting binds
The pastime chorus
That wails, with ancestral despair

All I am
Is a wayward
And time-ravaged corpse

Displaced
Upon the morrow’s
Unwelcoming shore

May I stew
Well-beyond
My truthful prime

Enrobed
In the curves
Of counterfeit joy