The dead man <br />had in his pocket <br /> <br />a theatre <br />ticket stub <br /> <br />to the last night <br />of the play <br /> <br />a single <br />train ticket <br /> <br />some loose change <br />that didn’t amount to <br /> <br />much <br /> <br />the beginning of a poem <br /> <br />merely an unintelligible <br />scribble <br /> <br /> little scrap of <br />Love <br /> <br />a precious <br />kiss <br /> <br />(invisible to all <br />but himself) <br /> <br />on his right cheek <br /> <br />that had never faded <br />but blossomed anew <br /> <br />each time he thought <br />about it <br /> <br />on his lips <br />was a name <br /> <br /> <br />that remained with him <br />always
