The Day I Found Out I Was God
The story most people like me to tell is
the one where we hiked clear over the
mountain into town when we were kids
and had to call our dad to pick us up
from the preacher’s house because
that was the only local place we knew.
When my dad got there the preacher
let him have it about what he would do
if we were his kids who disobeyed like that,
a gesture that kept us from serious trouble
because my dad never liked the guy or god
anyway and he wasn’t about to follow
a preacher’s advice so he never said a word.
Not much of a story until I tell you the part
about my dad not being here anymore,
at least in practice. Sure, he’s alive,
whatever that means, not much meat left,
bones still rattling around in his chair, but barely,
his walker only a guard dog now.
Sometimes we die before we die, if you know
what I mean, giving up on everything
except breathing.
I saw a homeless guy doing push-ups in front
of his tent today and as for me, I just
wonder why he was doing all those push-ups
if all he has left of life is a tent full of
more breaths.
.
Stink Eye Magazine 