Jumping the queue
You jumped the queue, Mike,
took the lace out of your shoe.
Came unhinged, used the door hinge.
It all ended in intensive care.
Last time. End of time.
You set sail away from this strife-life
On the sea of non-life, after-life.
Sailing speaks of a surface
and staying on it.
God, we did.
Oh Mike, we stayed on the surface.
If only we’d known.