My funeral was to be in a treehouse,
ours from when we were four,
and we were to have the gold necklace from the Berkshires,
and the floaties from Highland,
and the red rocks from Carmel,
and the tennis balls from Miami,
and the bracelet from Edgartown,
and the box from Beth El,
and the candy from Aventura,
and the posters from Los Angeles
and the newspapers from everywhere,
we were to have it all,
up there,
away from all of this
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