the obit...

and it was said,
that I was pronounced dead,
and with this news ,
I sang few blues.
I read about it all
in the next morning paper,
with coffee and toast;
a long-haul life that didn't taper
off with tales to boast
of conquests,
or pillages,
or plunders;
results from ego-testicle blunders
... it just ended.
was I hit by a truck?
my demise just such luck?
or was I more insidiously struck?
with cancerous insurgencies,
slow, less immediate emergencies
eating away at the core,
delicately balanced, painless--no sore,
or complaints;
alarm-less sounds
making their rounds,
and then I just shut down
like when the sidewalks roll up downtown.
But all that was said
from what I had read,
was that I was just dead.