Let’s face it, benches anywhere speak for themselves. One doesn’t need to so much think about “why” but rather do, as in we sit or know they’re for sitting. Its fairly automatic. Even so, some of our tourists are taken with the fact that they’re there and for us it’s surprising because, well, we just hang out in cemeteries all of the time and they seem old hat. But there’s a history there that is as old as cemeteries themselves really and hope you enjoy this video short on the subject! And don’t forget you can always get in-person understanding with Shannon Scott or one of his great storytellers at http://www.shannonscotttours.com
by Shannon Scott (C) 2015
Click Here To Listen To Shannon Recite This Poem
There goes the lumpy woman.
The one with the plum, polyester knee shorts.
Brand new Reeboks and bruises dark.
She doesn’t walk or run, but rather hobbles.
A disintegrating machine.
Getting back into her shape of nothing.
She is something new somewhere else.
She is something new here.
She is all she has.
More noticed from a balcony than on a street.
The shoes fit better than her feet.
I watch her from here but we will never meet.
When the moneys gone, love and luck have run out.
She may become you, she may become I.
No doubt, no doubt.