care if I died tomorrow, wouldn't read it in
the paper or hear it from a friend.
They wouldn't send flowers or light a
candle. They wouldn't call my parents or
friends and tell them about the great sense
of loss they didn't feel and how God
does and doesn't work in mysterious ways.
If I had a list of them I think I would find them
in their cramped apartments and beachside
condos. I would introduce myself, careful to
pronounce my first and last names with an
unfolding clarity. Sure that they could recite
both first and last with linguistic dexterity,
I would beat them without mercy. Blood
fisted and unyielding I would continue to scream
my name. As I walked away I would shout it
again over my shoulder, just to make sure.
I'm sure when they hear I've passed, they will be
consumed with a great sense of joy. and then, of course,
there will only be 4,893,322, 401.
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