She stays by me, and I admit
I talk to her...

How you come to see me when I die,
dressed in rags or sables...

They meet for coffee
once a month on the fifteenth...

I tell people,
If I produce one good poem a week...

Aunt Sis,
who I think really was my mother...

It takes two years to kill yourself,
to get to the point you don't care anymore...