Blind Date with Death

             
I asked Death              
if madame took it up the ass            
and what it felt like        
sleeping with a stiff              
in eternity's ice cold bed               
         
So far          
she didn't answer,             
which suits me just fine              
but I can't help wondering              
how high I rate on her list              
               
I almost asked            
if on her wilder nights              
Death plays peeping Tom          
stalking the window of life          
applauding every cigarette and shot            
her shadow ready to pounce          
on the foibles of an ailing heart            
             
But she must hear that all the time               
so then I thought maybe life's  
plucked blind from the nest       
a trembling baby bird        
to be cupped in safer hands              
away from Death's embrace        
for a fleeting moment of joy              
while the rest of eternity waits        
which means not one of us      
can ever quite learn how to fly                
           
And I still can't get a hard on          
for Death Air economy class              
all the waiting to check in      
with seven billion in the line              
no lifejacket required              
and not even a restroom              
to freshen up in        
               
Wouldn't you bet          
she'll be a sour-faced        
miserable bitch              
with a gash like sandpaper          
and gravity stretched tits              
forever checking her nails              
and bragging to her pals        
cholesterol and cancer             
about threesomes in the freezer             
with every new kid hits town      
       
Don't you just hate          
blind dates.