My wife Maxine was creative, she tried all sorts of art

Cupcakes full of arsenic,

Snorkeling with sharks,

Mercury-tipped umbrellas,

And us jogging in the park

 

But of all her stabs at murder

She never could run me down

Even when dead tired, she liked to play around:

Strangulation via sweatpants,

Slipped corkscrew in the eyes,

Experiments with bear traps

And me eating her apple pie

 

While she bit the bullet yesterday

She bequeathed me with a gift:

Debt fat enough to bury me

Exactly twenty-seven cats

Stacks and stacks of coupons

And cellars full of rats

 

I think after all her nagging,  I just might go grant her wish:

I’ll “..jump right off the Brooklyn bridge and go swimming with the fish.”

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