Buried


Amber had just gotten ink put under her skin,
And we were drunk on gin martinis in a bar in Brooklyn
And a man with a voice of tinfoil
Was telling us how the bar was haunted
They found bones in the basement
Buried beside a gold ring
And a statue of something unspeakable
What was the statue of? We wanted to know
But the man wouldn’t say

Amber showed him her new tattoo
Wrapped in plastic for protection
And we stared at the way the ink bled into her

What will our bodies look like after we die?
Will the ink we put into our skin still be on us?
Where will we go when we are no longer here?

But the man wouldn’t say
And our martinis were running low
Amber and me and the man
The bones under the floorboards
And the ink under our skin
The ring and the statue of something unspeakable
And everything else that was buried
And waiting to make itself known.

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