Just When

by D. S. Irwin

Just when I think
That no one loves me,
I realize that no one
Really does and
I still don’t care.
One of these days,
The Reaper will
Come to get me.
He'll say that it’s
Time for me to go.
But, I’ll feed him
A bunch of lies.
“You got the
Wrong guy, skinny.
You’re here for
My brother Fred.
But, you just
Gotsta be jivin’.
We all know that
Freddy’s dead.”
Not into soul music,
He'll probably
Snatch me up anyway.

Daniel S. Irwin, native of Southern Illinois.  His card reads:  Artist, Actor, Writer, Soldier, Scholar, Priest (all a matter of opinion). Published in over one hundred magazines, journals, anthologies (some crap, some actually good, a few great). Published thirteen books . . . some burned on a regular at the local church book burnings. Recent work can be found at Horror, Sleaze, Trash Magazine, Beatnik Cowboy, The Rye Whiskey Review, and Cajun Mutt.