How much death works，

    No one knows what a long

    Day he puts in. The little

    Wife always alone

    Ironing death's laundry.

    The beautiful daughters

    Setting death's supper table.

    The neighbors playing

    Pinochle in the backyard

    Or just sitting on the steps

    Drinking beer. Death，

    Meanwhile， in a strange

    Part of town looking for

    Someone with a bad cough，

    But the address somehow wrong，

    Even death can't figure it out

    Among all the locked doors……

    And the rain beginning to fall.

    Long windy night ahead.

    Death with not even a newspaper

    To cover his head， not even

    A dime¹ to call the one pining away，

    Undressing slowly， sleepily，

    And stretching naked

    On death's side of the bed.