I shall attend, one day soon, in a suit,
your funeral.
I’m sick too, but it isn’t terminal,
although it is actually.
I cycle home from the shop
& – Yo, Priscoe.
Thought I was someone else,
someone good. You made me
forget myself.
c/o
30 Aurora Terrace
Hillcrest
Hamilton
2
The stone in my boot resolves itself.
We get used to anything – torture,
if protracted. Stretched to lengths we can’t imagine.
If we live long enough, something terrible will happen.
Immortality’s cracked because any day now
you can expect the worst, a fate worse than death.
I have a lingering doubt, a ready-made
phrase. I hesitate
at the roundabout; go, give
way, almost.
Do you know I’m afraid of traffic lights now, Stop
signs some days?
Thanks, emjay
Thanks. I really enjoyed this. Especially the pause at the roundabout. Nice line break.