The End of the Road

The End of the Road.


I’m trudging down that long,

long road I have to follow

before I appear at the place

where death waits for me.


I’m gonna miss being alive

after I die. When I arrive at

the location marked for my

demise, I promise not to cry.


I’ll look at the bright side and

see that when I leave this world,

I’ll have angel wings and be able

to fly, sing, and be happy all day.


I begin to practice for what’s to

come. I build a set of wings and

jump off a cliff. With a broken leg

I sit with a rented harp on my lap.


A hymn leaves my lips, my neighbors

call the police and I’m arrested for

disturbing the peace, but that doesn’t

wipe the smile from my lips.


I’m practicing being happy here so I’ll

know how to act after I die, I tell the

angel from hell who wears a white coat

and asks me why I wear a happy mask.


I can’t tell a lie, so I say, “When I leave

this world and go on to the next, I’ll

be able to play my harp while I happily

fly around singing all the time.”


“You’re insane,” he says and takes me

downstairs to a padded cell where I can

sing and yell until I come to the end of

that road I have to travel before the end.

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