fifty-nine

death called upon the telephone last night

the receiver talked about the games of living

and the many chances against dying

and the unfairness of life and death

the telephone spoke of death near and far

and looked for existential answers

to life's most primary problems

what more can anyone do

to assuage a forlorn spirit

of an ego facing finally the grand discontinuity

posed by an early, unexpected death

revealing the fragile superficiality

of life's day-to-day matters

what more can one say

for the bereaved on behalf of the departed?

how to console the disconsolate and inconsolable?

what to do that would make everything seem better

or change it all back to the way it was before?

we all live on borrowed time

and take it all so for granted

death keeps us all finally in line

rich, poor, ugly, beautiful, happy or sad

young or old

it doesn't matter

the death tax is equal and final

for everyone