After years of trying to connect,
years of red lights flashing,
he walked, one night, down the railway,
smack into a coming train.
They salvaged what they could of him;
they went through the old ceremonies,
lowering the coffin in the grave.
But his remains were everywhere…
His severed hand, his blood-streaked hair
cropping up in nightmares.
His reluctant smile flickering
at discos, at weddings.
His disembodied bones
at every burial.