Fear of the Future

The local radio
I work to that.
Last day, first week
in my new job.
I wash the old man
according to instructions.
Between two tracks
(Love her madly
and Good Girls Go to Heaven)
a voice invites us listeners
to send in views
on this week's topic:
the recent  rioting.
The views will be expressed
in four words maximum.
Example given:
Fear of the future.

Now from next door
another radio,
turned up too loud,
is drowning ours -
or nearly so.
Drives me to distraction.
How can they work like this,
my comrade undertakers,
busy with the mysteries
of barrier techniques?

We can't afford a slip
in case infection spreads...
Is every corpse infected?
I want to know,
but no one answers me.
The dead are living here:
an ever present threat.

Never speak ill of the dead,
my uncle said,
they can't speak back.
Dip into life's
delicious mix
of saintly joys 
and sinners' kicks.

Most people
who have ever lived
are still alive,
he also said.
So when you die
you join a more
select community.