He was enmeshed in the bed
sunk deep down
into the mattress
curved into the bedding
His eyes were closed
but he was thinking
of Death
who was already standing
in the doorway
Needles in his arms
A hole in his throat
White liquid
going through his veins
It was almost all over.
All the cigars smoked
All the trips taken
All the sunlight
and the forward motion
into a tomorrow of more
gone!
Where have all the flowers gone
for that is where he is going