When I was a

know-it-all kid

I swore I’d be dead

before twenty-one

I suppose it

was wishful thinking

And now at thirty-three

my heart is still beating

and I still feel like

that dumb kid

Still thinking about

death

The grandparents

are ash, my folks

slowly disappearing

behind a sea of wrinkles

and gray hair

In the mirror I’m

a caricature of

myself

The funny thing is

the Mason clan

are a stubborn bunch

and live way longer than

anyone should

My grandfather smoked

three packs a day and

drank wine like a fish

for half his life

And at eighty-eight

as he clung to life and

watched life go by from

his front porch rocking chair

the cancer eating away his insides

his grandkids’ kids grown up

and his wife long gone

I visited him

the day before he died

and we sat side by side

on the front porch

watching life go by

mostly silent

There was no life left

but no hurry to die

looking back now

I guess he knew

we were already

dead

Wayne Mason is a writer and factory worker from central Florida. When he grows up he wants to be Kannon. His work has been published throughout the small press and he is author of the chapbook, Every Day is Labor Day from Scintillating Publications. You can check out more of his stuff at http://guerrillapoetics.com