Approximately Dceased

He has left the world. A half-made bed creaks still. A life left elsewhere, not here in this blue rat-tailed viewing. Display the cold hands, the musty suit newly buttoned. Teeth wedged tightly inside a cosmetology mask. Earwax continues. A smile sheens on formaldehyde lips. Outside, a spasmodic rain quivers. Never before has he been this ready. His pockets bulge still with balled-up notes a linty jot and tittle left unsung. Damp mourners ebb away dabbing milk-less eyes. A soft hat sags from a paint-chipped hook dripping like a nose. Half-washed dishes are his legacy. Close the door quietly least they rattle.