In a dead person's day,
Busily, they push up daisies.
They get a few breaks
Per the crew boss's hankerin'
Or the dead persons current union sanctions.
Everyone smokes,
Because what does it matter?
But there's not a lot of chatter
Because in the twinkling of an eye,
Everyone came to know everything.
So nothing is really up for discussion.

But when a dead person lies down to sleep,
And begins to dream,
This is where the seams between life and death get hazy.
This is where the hauntings take place,
For, it's then, the dead person can go,
And be in the land of the living.

And if a living person and a dead person dream  the same thing,
They can meet on a street of gold,
Or just an old street in someone's memory,
And if they find a mattress lying on a curb in town,
They can lie down on it together,
And sleep and dream a dream within a dream.
And if they never wake up they can dream forever,
In an endless looping equation that physicists call infinity.

And this is why you find so many of these mattresses
Lying around outside,
Some thrown out by the living,
Some thrown out by the dead,
And if you take a snapshot of these,
Sometimes you can see
The graphs of certain equations,
Parabolas and rays, extending out
In both directions, for all eternity.

And this is why I take pictures of mattresses.
(Well, it's as good a reason as any.)

-jenn