-Stop. Look. Listen.-

Requiem for the liquor salesman on the road

Hit by the train

The Doppler Shift won’t matter.

But a slow death’s like the funeral knell

With the Doppler in effect.

It opens with its soft alarm, then

Crescendo—

And it’s too late as sound collapses.

The tree

Falls and you aren't in the woods to hear it.

The star

You’re looking at isn’t really there.

You don’t

Hear the one that’s got your name on it.

It’s the last

Chesterfield that killed you.