I'm Still Alive

Every morning,
death is there to greet me,
cheerfully tipping his hat
as I brush my teeth.

I'm still alive.

Every morning,
death smiles and waves to me
from the back of my
cereal box.

I'm still alive.

Every day brings opportunities
for death to slip in the back door.
The moon collapses,
the sun explodes,
airplanes fly right through your window.

Every evening,
death tucks me into bed
and kisses my ear.

I'm still alive.

Every day I'm a survivor,
yet still I twiddle my thumbs,
pick my ass,
and stare blindly out the window.

David W. Aronson
September, 2001