Alone

Free Verse ReVolution

Now I’m alone
and the telephone is
the drone in my living
room, silent
but deadly-

calm before
the medley of substance
abuse,
self-inflicted
bruises and what sounds
like the assembly of awkward
clues leading to
the circumstances of a
fabricated death.

Driving west into
unspoiled sunsets,
I wonder who wrote my obituary and if
they used a spell
check;

who threw out
my bread and found that eighty cents on
the stovetop.

I fought couch
cushions
tooth and
nail to leave a tip for the
Good Samaritan who feels the
imperative to
scrub my
kitchen floors.

ALL PROFITS TO
THE poor, says the note taped to
my front door.

They deserve the
performance of
a lifetime, and that’s what I
gave my life
for.

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