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      January 9, 2010Larry CristLast Day on Earth

      On this the last day on earth
      I bathe, wash my hair, clean my nails
      shave with a new blade

      I dress because there’s a chill in the air
      put on that nice silky Hawaiian shirt
      Make coffee and use my favorite mug
      Van Gogh Starry nights the one with the little chip on the lip

      I do all the things I normally do
      try and pay attention to each task
      without thinking, gee, I won’t be doing this anymore
      That could drive me crazy before this day is done

      I’d spend even more time staring out the window
      and looking at the sky than usual
      I’d gaze at my car from the porch
      It will be crazy on the roads today

      With my third cup of coffee I add a shot
      finishing that single malt I’d been saving
      I smoke that bud I’ve had around for a while too
      Then perhaps eat that Viagra someone gave me that I’ve had forever
      but was afraid of
      that: erection over four hours see your physician…warning
      I could never tell if that’s for real or just advertising
      anyway, what can I lose today?

      I’d make love to my wife
      I’d try and take my time
      but probably wouldn’t exceed four hours
      With the time left over I’d spread out all my favorite porn mags
      and hold a contest as to my very favorite

      I’d already have made us a nice breakfast
      with my special crispy potatoes and perfect overeasy eggs
      and we’d eat them on the porch
      along with a tall bloody mary
      while listening to Frank Sinatra
      and perhaps dance a couple turns
      I’d probably want to write a poem
      but would resist this impulse

      We’d talk of course but it’d be a vastly different kind of discussion
      None of that, when are you going to get a job kind of stuff
      or could you clean out the garage or is tonight recycling?
      or the house sure is getting dirty kind of talk
      We wouldn’t discuss “the relationship”
      We’d be on to more personal metaphysical digressions
      during which I’d probably make another cocktail
      while she clutched the cat and we’d both cry and maybe she’d
      get her guitar and play that song she’s never really played for me

      She’d want to call her mother
      and I’d want to check emails and open one last day of mail
      but nothing would have come and it wouldn’t matter if it did
      And I’d pull her off the phone, smash it
      beside where I had already smashed the clock and television
      And we’d discuss how we should have gotten together with so and so
      one last time, deciding it would have been too painful
      on this the last day

      We’d continue, sitting together
      taking turns holding the cat, holding each other
      sharing bits of conversation, listening to our
      favorite tunes and discussing what to do for dinner
      and I’d go make us martinis instead with lots of olives
      while our eyes continued trained on the sky
      watching it get dark
      waiting for the end together
      waiting for it both alone

      from #31 - Summer 2009