Christmas Eve Funeral

Is there ever a good time to die?
She wonders as she waves
A bag of cocaine:
White flag, in truce.

It was a day of close encounters:
The sun and the horizon
Her nose and the numb
Her father and the end of a kiss

It was like drowning, but the good kind.
A cease-fire? Futile because
the waves ceaselessly fire
Shelling the shore