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title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

John Grey


 

Roommate

My roommate, death,
is busy typing up a letter —
what's your social security number,
he asks -
I hated him at first
but now, in my weakened state,
I've grown attached to his solemn presence —
sometimes
I fake a heart attack
just to mess up his timeline —
or I say, "I'm feeling much better"
even when I'm not —
he's not easily cheated
but I'm his equal in dark humor —
besides, the number I gave him is yours.