Look who thinks he’s dead,
with twice the life in him
as half the guys I knew
before I died myself.
I’d call it “caring,”     call it
being human,       quixotic,
something        pulling his
corpses         hair out even
aren’t,        though there’s
.            nothing he can do
.       but moan and rattle
.  his bones supportively,
having no dog in the race:
still playacting for the skirts.





Tom Riordan lives in New Jersey. He’s a retired restaurant worker and teacher, and dreams about becoming pope for his next career.

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