I’m beachcombing along the shores of Pamure
when an empty rum bottle washes up at my feet.
A note in the bottle sings: Aint misbehaving’,
Savin’ all my love for you.
It must be a message from my deceased wife.
I sing to the sky: I’m on my way, and I won’t turn back.
The 40 acres of 100 bills I planted assures me my kids
and grandkids will certainly remember me.
I’ll find my loving wife wherever she is located.
She’s probably found another dump in the cosmos
to search for charming collectables for her artwork
which she used to teach Tibetan Buddhist meditation.
I will roll up my sleeves and help her as I always did.
She appreciated my help and I always got rewarded.