we are the dead ones.
complain to me, June, Whats the use, whats it for.
June you always knew me your dearest nephew, we were special.
Dear June, the incomprehensible joy of being ok.
Mom or Pat, always had me man the spatula, while I gritted through it.
to much to bear, wincing, wrinkled poppy's, oh dear June.
were all sort of zombies, Wait do you remember me, from long long ago, we once knew of each other, fleeting, rasped voices, a horses whale, vomit between silence

Dear June, where all here, all dead to us.