Death Ain’t Nothing

when i come around the dock, to greet the merry widower,

the merry pun, i’ll wear a

black captain’s coat, bottle under my arm,

and mix you a rocks glass with lime and sugarcane rum;

since death done come, and death won’t go,

but death ain’t nothing but quid pro quo

/

and there it be, the glory of the seven billion seas,

bobbing like a metallic whale in the cat tail field,

grinding great white scars

into the black lake rocks, pikes

and pickerels gather all about, and my pretty widower

all dressed for the event, satin scarf, satin gloves

in a black satin place where snapping turtles roam

is in a world of woe;

because death done come, and death won’t go

but death ain’t nothing but status quo

/

which is why i come around the dock at all

to show her that big submarine

that takes up the lake in whole, washing

water into the woods, stranding puffing perch

and bass in puddles in roads, so completely out of place;

since death done come, and death we can’t escape

but death ain’t nothing like our pretty little lake