Remembering me.  (The sitcom)

What'll they’ll say when I’m as dead

as the Interstate 95 opossum?

"Good bunter" they'll say.

"Fast up the first base line" they'll mostly agree. 

"Couldn’t hit for shit" she might add.

–Cue the canned laughter.

"Hell-of-a slow dancer, though" she'll sigh.

–Cue the murmur third pew from the altar's polished rail.

I used to like the scent of burning incense wafting from

the rocking thurible serving at the altar of the Benediction.

I've driven a fast car passing the opossum laid waste on the

tarmac of the open road. — I've fathered one child.

"That's 19 short of the opossum" she'll add with a smirk.

 –Cue the canned laughter.

the procession begins with the organ's first note.