03-20-2011, 02:25 PM
"It's all make believe, isn't it?" - Marilyn Monroe
And here we are again, discussing death
Like old women returning
To the same topics: their grandsons’ wives,
The price of eggs, how schools have declined
Since they abolished the cane.
How can one fail to be fascinated
By the inevitable, the approaching man
In the long black coat
Who never announces himself,
Never calls you on the phone,
But insists on making the journey by foot,
Down roads dotted with years, birthdays,
Marriages and funerals
For those he takes along the way,
Until he arrives at your bed and you see.
The alleys of eternity
Are no thriving metropolis, no Leamington Spa
In the sky, not a Camp David for the rich
And the poor. I doubt any of our theories are true.
Yet here we are, discussing death.
And here we are again, discussing death
Like old women returning
To the same topics: their grandsons’ wives,
The price of eggs, how schools have declined
Since they abolished the cane.
How can one fail to be fascinated
By the inevitable, the approaching man
In the long black coat
Who never announces himself,
Never calls you on the phone,
But insists on making the journey by foot,
Down roads dotted with years, birthdays,
Marriages and funerals
For those he takes along the way,
Until he arrives at your bed and you see.
The alleys of eternity
Are no thriving metropolis, no Leamington Spa
In the sky, not a Camp David for the rich
And the poor. I doubt any of our theories are true.
Yet here we are, discussing death.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe



I think this is one of those poems where the attempt at the artfully humdrum just comes across as humdrum.