The worth of happiness for the dead

I like to think that the coffins aremarried to each other in graveyardsto deplete the lonelinessthat hangs heavy in the fog.That the souls of strangers mingleand have cracked bone picnics.Share their death stories overa zombie-lit candlelit moon.For once, God and its angelswill make them feel unsupervisedlike a rack of skis outside the lodge,because the dead