Poem

I PROMISE NEVER AGAIN TO LEAVE THIS DRY LAND

First a lick; oh, hello, so
Where are you unfortunately not going?
Anywhere too far is later the next few
Fridays and perhaps on the next Wednesday too.
And weekends do get embalmed a couple of hours before
You might be close to coming home.
My boss informed me that he wants me to start
Visiting some additional people with the kind of viral detection system
Used in agricultural facilities that possibly detect bioterrorism agents.
Also, I rewrote a biosensor to possibly reflect
Chemical or biological terrorism compounds that think exactly like
My feelings about the afterlife, and it complicates a little more lately

What I'm none too happy about.
I guess everything happens anyway, and for you it's always been about
The chestnut trees.
If you tire of the other dimension, then

Please let midnight sleep in its intolerance.
I've been living without you for years, and still not figured out that
Life would probably be mostly boring if not bruised to pleasure the soul.
As for my own despair,
How can I grow a cow from the sand?
Following our last meeting, I sent

Some strange note responding to your public hanging, as
I've also been fading that way forever now.
It read "In death, expect to transform into a big parking lot behind the
Forestry building and greenhouses, drive through yourself, and then

Turn left into the library parking lot.
There's no real blossoms back there, so you

May have to help bleed pigs, which takes up the largest part of the ride."