No Music at the Scene

When he died there were no horns.
No triumphant trumpets announced the departure of life.
How about a smooth silence with a rustle now and then?
Yep, that's it.

There did exist new light bulbs, though.
All the crackers and model cars were discarded and distributed.
The television was ironic for our scene.
The lady on the screen kept saying "we're live."
I thought that was weird.

Anyway, we didn't shout or anything when he died.
The experience was heavy but everyone's actions appeared to be rote.
Whispers guided speech.
And arrangements arose out of adults.

No music, though, in that room existed.
Hushed grievances and quiet joys rolled down cheeks.
A monitor on the left side of the bed blipped as a deaf man
Tried to speak.
Then it blipped no more.
Especially not that monitor that everyone says registers the heart and brain.
Heart and Mind, ehm.

Yeah, well, everyone else says it indicates the absence of life
And shows this line that's called a flatline.
It makes a sound like uuuuhnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.
Maybe I'm wrong.
That was the music.

Their Mylar Floating

The festivities stirred with laughs.
With loathing curbed, full-throated joy broke free.
Occasional fits of music levitated in the sun.

Blues whistled.
Reds waved.
And whites hummed.

While hues on hand made such noise,
There remained the leaders.
They sat and pride had a hand on their backs.

With chins up, they handled the ways of the world
Easily, no, simply.
What they did was make it look easy.
Instead of settling for simplicity, they chose to live
Simply.

With faces held high they found the clouds and stars were chatting
And they also peered at their Mylar floating.

Their Mylar with the gold or white or red or a smiley face
Up there like Icarus but at least it's known his wings melted.

Where did their Mylar go?
Who found their Mylar?

The days ahead are sure.
They'll remain true.
They're looking for something pure.
Even if they never get back their Mylar.