Collections Poem by Ted L Glines

Collections
by Ted L Glines

Cousin Clara passed away,
dead and gone to angel's play,
buried nigh a year ago
but Citibank won't let her go
because of charges that she owes,
as if to give her further woes.

She owed nothing when she died,
she was clear with naught to hide.
I guess in death she dropped her guard
and they renewed her credit card,
and charged a fee for that of course
and would collect it - now by force.

They called me just the other day
saying Clara had to pay
the charges and the lateness fee,
they even tried to threaten me.

I told them they should use their head,
that cousin Clara was long dead,
but Citibank seemed not to care,
she owed the bill - and that was fair.

'But she's dead, ' I screamed in rage,
'she won't care if you engage
the meanest lawyers in this town,
she won't even give a frown! '

The way they were persisting,
there was no sense resisting,
Clara needed no protection
from this posthumous collection,
so I gave them what they sought;
I gave the address of her plot.

Citibank is trying to this day
to make our long-dead Clara pay,
and somewhere up above the sky,
I know that Clara grins on high.


Author's Notes: Forgive me, Citibank, for using your name in vain. In that final hour, just before you die, you must call all your creditors and inform them that you will henceforth be deceased, and they should desist from adding further charges to your account. Make sure you do that, ya hear! I wrote this for all of you who have been out to the cemetery and probably wondered why there is a post box at the foot of Clara's grave. I empty it on weekends. You ought to see the nasty notices from Sears!