Friendly fire

For fear of intruders, should I
keep a gun in the nightstand,
unleash the dogs, play Bach at
high volume?

Post a watch at the cemetery gate,
notify the adjacent homeowners.
But don’t bury me here
in my pin-striped suit.

Wait  until my eyes turn
the color of fresh radishes
then carry me back across
the Hudson; pick your time.

Beach the Renault in Hoboken
leave the keys in the ignition.
Fire them all, the naysayers,
the doomsday prophets.

Surround yourself with
the positive; America is
for the intensely spiritual now.
So load the damn thing.

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