the pact

“I called up Harry and his girlfriend
answered,” she said, and I asked,
“can I speak to Harry?”
and she said, “Harry’s not here right
now.”
and my girlfriend said, “all right,
I’ll phone him back.”
and Harry’s girlfriend said,
“listen, I think I’d better tell you
something.   Harry’s
dead.”

my girlfriend and Harry used to be
lovers.   Harry had a bad heart
and he couldn’t get it up
but he had other
ways.

then she told me:
“Harry and I made a pact:
when he died he was supposed to
come back from the dead and
signal me to prove that there’s
life after death.
maybe I ought to tell you
what   he’s going to
try to do.”

“never mind,” I said, “I
know.”

so each morning now when we
wake up I ask her, “well, did
Harry do it?”

I get worried at night.
I can see this tongue 400 times longer
than the Himalayas ripping the
bedspread in half
as I only have a cracked ceiling on the
halfshell for
counsel.

I’ve always had insomnia.
at last now I have something
to wait on
besides
morning.