My Little Golden Book of Phobias

Oh, last night driving home, I passed the house where Kurt Cobain died. There is a little park next door and there is a bench in the park. The people who own the house now tore down the building where he actually died but people visit the park and use the bench as a memorial. For the last few days there have been flowers on the bench and last night there were lighted candles...for our own poet.