A cemetery is located across the parking lot and highway from our office. When I look out the front window, it’s what I see first. Cars assemble in the cemetery for a funeral occasionally, certainly not every day. Lately we have noticed cars pull into the cemetery driveway and on the grass next to the highway, and the first few times we thought perhaps a funeral crowd would be gathering soon. But the cars stayed just a short time—and they didn’t all gather at once—before driving away. Odd, we thought. “They remind me of flies over there. They all alight. And then they leave,” observed Allicia. A factory has just recently opened down the road from our office, so we began to wonder if perhaps people were choosing to eat lunch in their cars in the cemetery. Again, odd. Why don’t they eat lunch in the cafeteria/break room/employees lounge? Why don’t they eat lunch in their cars in the parking lot of the factory?
Then it occurred to us: the people in the cars could be people who are now—as of
So what do we call this “smoking in the cemetery”? Irony? Allegory? Metaphor? Symbolism? Poetic justice? I don’t think I have the brain-power to figure out which--if any--of those literary terms fit, so I’m very open to comments and feedback!
