Texty: Fiery Furnaces (The). Widow City. Duplexes Of The Dead.

I went on down unto the duplexes of the dead,
Where the shades are drawn and the shadows shut?
Unless you know the magic word.
(Seldom said but often heard, Bite your lip!)
Then spin around three times: On our honeymoon.
My husband sat still
With a look in his eyes and a pen in his left hand.
He wrote on the varnish the magic word.
(Seldom seen and never heard.)
He shushed me then slumped backwards dead asleep.
I went grumpy sitting in the sun by the umbrella stand,
Making every single unreasonable demand.
I covered my head and went to the office pool,
dipped in reverent a re-soled mule
and asked the chlorine fumes if there something they wanted to bring up