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
ate the garbage
I got down to business.
“To define the purpose
of our existence…”
The floor parted
sending my audience
into the depths of
non-existence.
“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 the window,
revealing
broken bottles
and
ashes on the floor.
I sighed to
the depths
of my soul,
and picked up a
dead cockroach.
Death, you sly bastard,
you bring me to life.
1991