Avoid. Smoke and not think.
Put away. Speak French.
Go to the Lesser Antilles.
So. After your life
you can discern the pattern.
Match up the nunmbers.
See how many’s a charm.
The doorbell is ringing.
Don’t answer it.
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john mann poems 
This one stays right on topic. It evokes the mature soul at the door of death contemplating the value of its actions and investitures and suggest the equivelency of this that or the other.
It is not a pretty or sexy poem, but niether is death. Crazy John! Only a poet would go there, or, as a suicided friend once said “Old poets and Junkies scratching at the gate of eternity.”