Time Out for a Poem
Why not, in this frazzled world?
One way or another, all poets get around to writing about death. I’m not contemplating an early exit, but I’ve approached the subject a time or two and here’s one from The Smell of Tweed and Tobacco. Death speaks in italics, as one would expect.
Bottomless Cup
He ducked between cars,
angling across the street,
one step ahead of the bus
Hurrying, mind elsewhere,
lost in scattered thought and
felt the tug at his shoulder
Excuse me? He looked surprised
I’m Death
I beg your pardon?
Death
But I’m late, really got to run
No hurry
You can’t be serious, not now
Serious. Yes, now
Surely you have the wrong fellow
No
Sure?
Sure
Let’s talk about it first
Cup of coffee?
Yeah, coffee would be nice
They all want that
What, coffee?
To talk about it first
Well, it seems the least you could do
Cream and sugar?
Yeah, now what’s this all about
About?
Yeah, you know, why now, why me?
Why not?
It’s just that I wasn’t expecting
No one ever does
Perhaps, but look here,
I suppose you have identification
Not necessary
Cryptic fellow. Not even papers?
No
Well, I must say, rather shabbily dressed
I mean, not even a crease in the trousers
That a problem to you?
Well, I suppose not, but it seems so . . .
Irregular?
Yes rather, I mean one expects
What?
Well, an appointment. I mean this is a bit
much to take in, without an appointment
You knew
Well, in the abstract, of course I knew
So, here I am
Yes of course, this is so somehow un abstract
I mean this is here and now, no phone call first
No phone call
No knock at the door, you could have knocked
Never knock
A little preparation would have been thoughtful
A lifetime to prepare
There you go again, in the abstract
There are some things I’ll need to attend to first
No need
Easy for you to say, but I have obligations
No obligations
At the very least, a letter to write, things to say
Should have said them
But who would know, who would ever expect
You knew
Well, what will they all think, when I’m gone so suddenly?
Very little
Not much comfort in that, certainly be a shock
Not so shocking
There will be tears, they’ll weep and wish me back
A few. Not many. Not for long
I’ll be missed, grieved for, agonized over
Not much
Well, I can’t bear the thought of not much and not for long
Not yours to bear
But I thought somehow it was all so important
Lot of that going around
Where are we going, what’s it like where we’re going?
You done with your coffee?
Not really, does it make a difference?
I could use another cup
Yeah, well me too, so answer me, what’s it like
Not supposed to say
Oh yes, well. Expect me to just come along then
Pretty much
And suppose I’m not ready, refuse to go and all that
Not an option
Let’s talk this through, is there a way around it
She’s slow bringing coffee
I mean are there loopholes, something to bargain away
You’ve been reading too much
I don’t suppose you’ve ever been bought off
You don’t have much
Yes well, remind me of that of course, but supposing
It always happens
What?
They meet me and start supposing
Well, only natural, you do come as somewhat of a shock
Never really understood that
What?
How the inevitable could shock
Okay, so I buy the bit, now what?
The bit?
Show biz term, a kind of referential thing
Oh
So let’s get on with it then, where from here?
From here?
Yeah, I mean we can’t just keep drinking coffee
Thought you liked coffee
Well, there you have it. A bit whimsical perhaps, but I expect death, when it comes, to have a sense of humor.
Beautiful, Jim. Keep drinking the coffee.