Hollow

As boys must always push hollow wooden boxes along parallel metal tracks
The peaks of white hills must have points of angle 51° —
It means my dear boy is dead.
Men must all wear black waistcoats and black bowler hats to remember him
And all people walking in parallel to the tracks must wear brown boots
For today is his funeral.
Six men must gather under the hut
To carry his body down.
In memory of him boys in white shirts shall always keep their legs apart at an angle of 30°
And two straight parallel tracks shall be erected at an angle of 42° to the river.
The hut shall be on the browny pink hill forever
And I will remember him.
The door on the hut must touch the slanting roof
To remind me one day I shall go through the door and be with my dear boy again.