Bury me with my files,
a half-empty bottle of Crown Royal
and my car keys.
Bury me with my Blackberry,
my university diploma,
and my last federal tax return.
Bury me with the TV remote control I held so close,
my guitar tuner and the novel
I was reading but could never finish.
Bury me with some cash, it meant so much.
Bury me wearing the shirt I wore too often
and refused to throw away,
and the pants you said
made me look fat.
Bury me with my glasses.
Bury me in expensive socks.
Bury me with a shovel and pail
because I didn't have a green thumb
and a hammer and some nails
because I was all thumbs.
Bury me with a Donnie Iris LP
because sometimes I had an itch that only he could scratch.
Bury me with an 8-track tape of Crime of The Century
and the Letters to the Editor I wrote
and my favourite hat that said
"The Future Is Now".
Bury me with whatever you can unearth
from my past.
Bury me with my passwords.
Bury me with my files.
Bury me with lies.
