THE OWL, THE SEAL AND THE COYOTES

--October 1993

Watching you go through the last days,
I tell you once that “you’re my hero,” and you,
barely able to breathe,
instantly reply,
like a Don cleaning his nails,
“Watch out for the god damn accountants.”

Watching you go,
I recognize the final photos of your life.
What a scream!
Flat on your back,
in your ratty, flamingo-pink tee and horrible robe,
oxygen tubes in your nose,
you sensed the camera, and raised your arms over your head,
a mock ballerina, toe dancing off the screen.

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