Quits

Got to be honest,
it's time to move on.
This job'll kill me before it's done.
Like the Boss-man, who began
this year by carrying a dead man,
his head half-hanging,
from a hit-and-run
to the grass verge.

You need to sit down, I says,
Like really sit down. 
Think. But Naaah!
Now lies doubled-up with
Specialists doing shifts.
They'll never fix that back of his.
But he may.

That very same morning I delivered a bed,
tripped over a dead woman instead,
right there on the stair.
They reckoned she'd tripped the night before;
that and the cold air.
But she must have been ninety
if a day.


Cor, 2000