with
walt's
love for
attention
one would think he'd sleep
in a gilded mausoleum
at fantasyland or deep frozen placed in a vault
under pirates of the caribbean—instead his cigaret ravaged cremains set
in a quiet garden wall at forest lawn— little mermaid statue his only flounce—
his true monument a bronze sculpture at disneyland
walt in suit and tie clutching hands
with mickey—who i
wonder is
holding
who
up