Jeffrey Zable


Okay so I made it to another birthday. This one a Covid

birthday. Let us celebrate with imaginary cake, ice cream,

and a dancing monkey who hands out balloons. Blow them

up and send them out into the world, and as you run barefoot

through the field, you may kiss the dead bodies along the way,

but please do not take anything out of their pockets as that is

reserved for loved ones and former teachers, all of whom

will be along soon with the test results to determine whether

you’re a candidate for enlightenment or whether it will mean

a life at McDonalds, eating regular meals of burgers and fries,

and becoming a regular fat person you’d meet on any given street…

                      NOT FOR ME TO JUDGE

This isn’t an immortal poem, but then I’m not an immortal guy.

Of course, I’m somewhere in-between immortal and a slug

crawling along on a warm day looking for a mate or something

to eat. Beyond this, I must say that if I had to do it over again

I’d prefer to do it as a lion, a killer whale, or a grizzly bear—

an animal that has no natural predators– which would allow

me to lounge around all day in my favorite chair and take in

the action, not all of which would be pleasant to watch, but

I’d just tell myself it’s all part of life, and not for me

to judge.

                 YOU JUST NEVER KNOW

First off. . . thank you for acknowledging that it took

courage for me not to commit suicide today even though

today was no different than most other days, except that

I was particularly bored, depressed, and while watching

television I wanted to slap many of the people, or have sex

with the pretty women who I’m sure would have rejected

me because of my age. They might even have rejected me

because I don’t have a lot of money. Anyway, I’m neither

glad nor sad that I didn’t commit suicide, but as I’ve said

before, “There’s always tomorrow, and given that I’ve

considered suicide off and on throughout my life, you just

never know. . .”

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