Date Night

Death came for me yesterday
Maybe on Tuesday, maybe the day before
I said, "Excuse me, but I am very busy
I have some prior engagements
From which I cannot possibly extricate myself."

All the people I ever read about
Tried to put off Death rudely
Waving sharp objects and screaming apologies
No one ever tried speaking politely to Death
I spoke politely, with believable reluctance
And he went away.

But he'll come for me again
Maybe next Tuesday, maybe the day after
"Excuse me, but I am very busy
I have some prior engagements
From which I cannot possibly extricate myself."

That's what I'll say, politely
And he'll incline his head, courteously, ever a gentleman
With the deference of those whose friends
Are suddenly swept up into the social world
They come calling at the door, hoping for old times
And are turned away

But he'll be back
Maybe in a year, maybe the next day
Whenever his desire overcomes his tact
I'll know what to say; I've said it before
Perfected the preoccupied tones
"Excuse me - "

"No more excuses," he'll cut me off
His voice rather different from what I expect
A little girl's voice, or maybe just a snake's
"Yours have run out. Anyway
Were you ever engaged
Which I highly doubt (Check your calendar)
No engagement could possibly be as pressing
As our little affair (Life never is)
We have a date tonight
I'll have you NOW."

In my last defense will I grasp for sharp objects
And find myself brandishing the old umbrella?
Will I scream and scream and scream and scream
(Scream in the countryside: the helplessness of being
unheard and innocent
Scream in the city: the betrayal of being
heard and ignored)?
Anyway, Death will have come for me
And innocent or merely insignificant
helpless or betrayed
I'll have to go.