Remember Me With Good Dark Beer
By William Frayer

In Mexico, when people die
Their stay on earth does not expire,
Extending on in memory
As concrete offerings require.

Flowers, photos, food, tequila
All that they loved their families share
And gather o’er their loved ones’ bones
To eat, to weep, to laugh, to bear

The tragedy of human loss
A celebration of our fate
To breathe and love while briefly here
Aware it soon will be too late.

And as I watch this ritual
With skulls and food and special bread
I think of mother’s bare, cold grave
Unvisited, of course, she’s dead;

She couldn’t know, nor could she care
If we brought her garlic bread,
Or beer, or shrimp, or needlepoint
Or tell her, “Mom, we’re all well fed!”

And as I wander through these graves
My eyes now sting with unshed tears
For soon my bones will lie here too.
Although I know, I still have fears

That no one will remember me
That I liked chips and good dark beer
And think of me when they indulge
And worse, not know what I held dear.