The little I know about funerals

That it always rains
except in Florida, where
the weather is consistently,
deceptively perfect,
despite the hurricanes.
that if I sit long enough
on the church pews, all
I can feel is pins and needles
and my feet fal asleep
so I can't walk out.
That if I stare at the back
of a bald uncle's head,
I will know when to stand up
and hum along with a
song I don't know.
That my mind always wanders
to things like analyzing the flowers
as monocots or dicots
as annuals or perennials,
even though they've all been cut
and jabbed into floral foam
and wouldn't bloom again anyway.
That I twist my ankles
when I trip over shallow indentations
and flat brass markers in graveyards.
That I never remember
to wear waterproof mascara
even though I always cry.