there are a million ways
to die in New York City.
my body will eventually
choose one or two to do.
and the Rumbler
will keep rumbling.
and she will only know
because these poems will stop.
Franco will have no one
to call except Eric.
life at large
will keep living.
so when the time comes,
and it will come infinite.
be it poison
or subway smash.
be it sudden like stroke
or long like love.
be it slow like lightning
or strong like cancer.
it will be correct
and my neck will know 88th street certain.