Poetry Reading: Imaginary Death – March 9th, 2020
You were screaming
at an imaginary friend
who was screwing
your imaginary woman,
as the insects on the floor
cleaned the garbage,
I got down to business.
“To define the purpose
of our existence…”
The floor parted
sending my audience
into the depths of
oblivion.
“Come back! Come back!”
I shouted in vain,
“I was only joking,
I was really going to
talk about girls!”
I was alone
when the sun crept
through my window
revealing
broken bottles,
ashes on the floor,
I sighed to
the depths
of my soul
and picked up a
dead cockroach,
Death, you sly bastard,
you make me feel alive.
1991