Fetch

This isn’t true, not at all,
Not even close, but let’s say
Your death was assigned to you

On the day of your birth, or
Your conception, whatever,
And had to travel to you

From however far away
Your death started out that day.
All this time, death’s been schlepping

In your direction, shuffling
Along, sometimes at a trot,
Sometimes barely in motion,

More of a crawl than a walk.
Wherever your death started,
However fit your death is

Determines how long you get.
It’s nothing to do with you.
Like we said. This can’t be true.