' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' On His Tod

He wonders
what it would be like

if he could
cry

but, he can’t.

And knowing himself well
he knows he never will.

He wonders
what it would be like

to die
but knowing

he never will
...he, can’t.

Death ponders such things
on his fag break

gulps down
his coffee

(gone cold now)

“Let’s go to work! ”

He does his best Tarrentino
& laughs.

Tells me:
“It’s nothing personal

...just got a job
to do.”

by Dónall Dempsey

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