on the radio
i hear about another celebrity dying
this time from a skiing accident
and i tell her
“these fucking celebrities
are always dying from drug overdoses
or from shit like skiing because
they have too much time on their hands.
you don’t see the common man
dying from skiing.”
“it was an accident,” she said. “you always
blame the victim when an accident happens.”
“well, if you died from something as dumb
as a skiing accident i’d blame you too.”
“that’s nice to know, that if i was
dying from skiing injuries you’d be
“i didn’t say i’d blame you while
you were dying.
i said i’d blame you after you were dead
like years later.
it would be pillow talk with whatever
nineteen-year-old i just fucked.”
“yeah, right,” she laughed
try whatever fifty-year-old
bar whore you picked up that night.”
i stopped for a moment.
she’d rendered me stone silent.
well, i thought,
i guess i couldn’t argue with the truth.
so i grabbed my discman
threw my keys in my pocket
gave her a kiss
and headed off to work.