Quieting

They are big
These doubts of mine
Let's not quibble
About proportions
Or inheritance

I mean, ask mum
She needed more evidence
Than the midwife's sick
When I slipped out of her

We're talking the whole
Big-Bang-Look-At-My-Gummy-Eyes
Palaver
I don't exaggerate when I say
They'd flat out fill a church hall -
These doubts of mine

A stranger asked me recently
Are you normal?
I didn't blink; I said I doubt it
He said I've been talking
And I think you're not
I said I doubt that too

Then he tried to force me into his car

I needed some convincing,
Let me tell you,
That that person was me

And now there's this whole death problemo
A funeral director
Just (a few years ago)
Showed me the way to the door
(I was sampling a coffin)
He was mighty cross
He said get out you don't deserve it
I said what, the mahogany?

It took 24 policemen,
One for each rib,
And a litre of vegetable spray
To convince me that that
Cadaver wouldn't dance

But here's a question:
Wouldn't we all
Flirt with the dead
If we knew our exhumations
Or serendipitous encounters
Would be Adequately Capitalised Upon?

The Officer in Charge doubted it
So did the judge, his angels,
The small men with shovels and cigarettes
And of course
Sodom's crazy lot

After five years I suppose,
Yes,
I did too:
Big time