Servicio a Domicilio

(carroza)

There was something intrinsically wrong about it.

I could not put my finger on it.

I had to permit them to stash him

on top of a thing

two mute strangers rolled in; their ghostly glowing clothes: the clorox boys –

I thought: You´re overdoing it a bit: the lucha libre of them

downloading, unfurling the sheet, bailing out with the pillow he preferred

in life, as if they were privy

to the secrets of our house; they made me (still) uneasier:

it was only meet to trail along

behind, none of them paid me attention: he in his frozenness,

kissed mouth athwart: awful grimace he´d never do in life –

I mean I know he had to go, he´d long since left off being him –

But couldn´t they have come somehow more seemly, chatted a bit,

said this or that

to sort of disguise what they were doing. I try and try.

I never call the right ones