Non, je ne regrette rien
………….The tomb of Rudolf Nureyev
We go to see where famous people lived
And died, and where their bodies rest. But why?
Perhaps we think their genius can be sieved
Through their abandoned bedrooms—or the sky
Above their graveyards will bring showers down
Containing droplets of their essence. If
We stand beside their tombs, we hope the brown
Earth will exude dead joys, or give a whiff
Of their bright moments for our nostrils to
Snuff up in greedy jealousy, or worse
We smell their final tragedies made blue
In air while rising to our green-eyed curse.
..We think of them in coffins and in dirt
….And go and eat a fancy French dessert.