evolution

One cold winter’s night
I sat on a stone bench
that was like a slab
in a funeral parlor.

Which is rather funny,
because the bench was
next to old John Purdue,
who is dead.

I turned and asked him,
“Mr. Purdue, I’m lonely.
No one here loves me
and I don’t belong.”

Said John, “Shut the
hell up, willya?
It was quiet here
till you showed up.”

I said, “Goodnight, then,”
got up off my grave,
and left old Purdue to his.

This entry was posted on Monday, February 25th, 2008 at 23:21 and is filed under smile like you mean it. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.