She never owned a TV set.
She never drove a car:
"What for?" she said when someone asked,
"Who needs to go that far?"
Instead she'd go for lengthy walks
through forests (she liked trees),
and through the city, for it had
"such diverse histories".
She had some pretty wacky friends
with straggly beards, wool shirts,
long braided hair, small tics, large humps,
and sternly cotton skirts.
They'd drink red wine till late at night,
discuss progressive tax,
light candles, then hold seances,
while eating vegan snacks.
Her way of life was wonderful.
Her way of death was not.
One day she made a bad mistake
-- she mixed crack, coke and pot.