Kevorkian

slips softly down th hall
smells of nothing
knocks on the old ladys door
w/an arm full of flowers
twisted behind his back
tendering a shaker of
charming affordable manhattans

he bows & spins hr around &
around thru th thrills of 3 & out
th old games of near love
th laughter
spins    dizzy
& they fall at thr feet
ecstatic

bad knees
he lifts carefully to not disturb hr
takes th superfluous folded money
limos home
showers
burns hs gloves in the microwave
faxes th cops & th waiting ambulance
& th great grand child

wearily sinks into
th lotus position
checks hs appointment
watch
& cheerlessly
mouses out a
koan

jim lang

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