Death dropped by last night. I never expect him, but he was lonely and I was available.
What’s up, I asked.
Same old shit, he said. You have no idea how hard this job is. Absolutely no one wants to see me. Ever.
Must be lonely.
Lonely, he said, you can’t imagine! Most of them die as soon as they see me. Do you know hard that makes it to have a meaningful relationship? Or even get a date?
Death lit a cigarette, unafraid.
Oh, I can imagine.
Well, let me tell you; it’s damned frustrating. Sometimes, I’d just like to cuddle, but I’m not into corpses. Yuck.
Death isn’t much of a conversationalist. Mostly he just whines. It’s all about him. He tends to ramble.
I just quietly let him talk. He did.
Have to be going, he said finally. Must meet the soon to be dead. Rush, rush, rush… and Santa Claus thinks he has it bad. Thanks for listening. See you soon.
No hurry, I replied.
I swear his missing lips smiled as he turned and left.
It took a while before I realized what I had just been spared.
Sometimes, it pays to be a good listener.
f you like this piece, and can afford it, please consider donating.
I no longer place poems in the Medium Partner Program. If you like my work, this is how you can show it.