His Shirts

All my kids want to talk about
--You hungry?  I got turkey in the fridge
It's from--who knows when it's from?
It's turkey
It don't go bad
They're birds
They live forever
Anyway
All my kids want to talk about
Are his drawers

His drawers
And his shirts
And his shoes
And his ties
And you'd think they were hurting somebody
The shirts and the shoes and the ties
You'd think I was keeping killer robots in my closet
They're his things
That's all
His things

They're sitting in a closet
They sit there
One day I'll get rid of them
Or maybe I won't
Whose business is it?
Not my kids
Not yours either, but whatever
You're here
You hungry?
I got pickles

All kinds of pickles
My husband used to love them
I used to have to have eight different kinds of pickles in the house
At all times

It was nuts

I'll tell you something
I miss my husband like you can't believe
But I don't miss buying those damn pickles
Now I just buy one or two jars
Which is still too much for just me
But, you know
You have company
You offer them a pickle
Some turkey
You want pot pie?
I got pot pie I just made yesterday
It's too salty for me
But you look like you like salt
I eat that much salt I'll drop dead

Then my kids'll be cleaning out my stuff
And my husband's
And the thought of my daughter
Messing around with my shoes

Oohhh, I have good shoes

I didn't lead the most extravagant life
But what money I had
After the kids were raised
And the bills were paid
Whatever money was left?

I bought shoes

My husband?

He bought shirts
Nice shirts

Who knows why?

He never went anywhere

But that was his choice
And when I clean out those shirts is mine, my choice

And I'll tell you something:

When the time comes
I'll know

And if the time never comes
Then they can just bury me
With everything
That's in that closet

Won't bother me

Won't bother me
At all