Shhhh

Happy (late) 4th of July, U.S. readers. It's late and I'm tired, but Aoide has been singing my ear off all night. I told her I'd post this latest one, then go to bed. She agreed. Edits may or may not come. Enjoy.

What's the Use?

3 O'Clock
in the morning
Eating cold Chinese food
to the retreating haze
of a night worth of
beer drinking
and I can't help but think
(as the chicken lo mein slides
unwillingly
down my throat)
Is this to be remembered?
When I'm long gone
to dust and worm shit,
when my name is forgotten
from the minds of my
children's
children's
children
Will this moment -
Spent greasy lipped,
somewhere on the edge
of a stomachache,
lost in ink and thought -
be worth any more than
the dirt I'd become?
Will any humanity,
any reality of who I am
remain with the name
on the gravestone?