Daddy, the autopsy results have returned.

The coroner told your weeping wife (and I) that your

alveoli had burst open like balloons and your lungs

had crumpled like wads of used tissue paper and your

larynx was rough with the repeated questions you used

to wheeze out from your place in the rocking-chair.

Oh Daddy.

I always knew your insatiable mouth would be the end of you.