Elegy for a Friend

Do not mistake me for a catholic, old friend.

I do not truly believe your soul to be hiding

underneath the couch or behind the fridge

in heaven or hell,

but the thought of you

pounding your fist on the door to Satan’s home,

and telling him that you gotta few things on your mind,

brings a wide grin to my face.

Satan will ask if you have been drinking.

You will lie to him slurring your words.

You will tell him to man up,

between dry heaves,

and demand that he fights you.

Satan’s wife will nervously call from the bedroom,

asking if she should phone the police.

You’ll yell at her while lighting a cigarette in the house.

He will tell you that it's time to get out.

You’ll leave while mumbling something

About how Satan controls the white house,

take a piss on his front lawn,

and then head back to the bar

to grab another drink with all the other demons.

Reviews

[A Foiled Soul]

I enjoyed the amount of emotion you placed into this. The way you seemingly wrapped it together with humor to hide the pain that is deep within. This is very good work. I hope to see more from you.