Allen, oh Allen,
How I wish you still had pen in hand.
Walking through the depths of purgatorial
life after life
are you in my wishes.
I enjoy you so.
Even now, when there is no more writing
I still read Kaddish and think of
Allen and Naomi and Aunt Elanor
all united in the womb of the afterlife.
And Allen, I still think of you.
And what lies ahead and if we'll meet
at this place of white light,
at the cock-ball-beginning-of-it-all.
I wonder if I'll see you there.
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