Bring me your dead

    “Bring out your dead,”
    “Bring out your dead,”
    Louder with each call
    A tall man with bald head   
    Looked in.  “We’ll have your dead.”
    His bass-voice demanded.
    “Have away,” I snarled,

    Looking up annoyed.
    “Don’t make me wait
    He snarled back.  I stood
    On wobbly legs and shook
    My cane.  “Do you see any dead
    In here?  You damned fool.  Try
    The house next door.  He checked

    His phone and checked my
    Number.  “No, no mistake.”
    I frothed, “You bureaucratic
    Muggins couldn’t find your way
    Around my block.  Get off   
    My porch or I’ll call the law.
    We’ll just see who here is dead.

    My anger overwhelmed
    My sense of being and I swung
    My cane, falling as I did.
    “I see him now,” I heard him say,
    Looking down with a glint
    In his closest eye.  I coughed, and as
    I died heard him contentedly sigh.