for Meir Ribalow
I had a drink with Death. He looked real sad.
I asked, “What’s wrong? Your face looks like a fist.”
He said, “As if you care,” and cursed a tad.
“I bet it’s Meir,” I said, and Death got pissed.
“I HATE it when you people die,” he said.
“The ones you leave behind when your life ends
Keep you alive in them after you’re dead!
You NEVER die—you live on in your friends.
You know what that makes me look like?” he cried.
“The only house on Stupid Avenue!
I don’t see ANYONE after they’ve died!
My kingdom’s empty—they’re all here with you!”
And then he cursed some more and said goodbye,
And I just smiled and went: “Meir says hi.”
Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells