i’m aware of death watching me

his black robe and skeletal hands peering from the bushes outside the window

the whinny of his pale horse as he rides it down the path

he stares at me in longing

like i’m a pair of lips he needs to kiss

or a pair of breasts to ogle

it’s nice to be wanted

but i find the sickle disconcerting

sometimes i pretend i don’t see him and go out on the porch and piss on his bone leg

all he can do is stand silently at the disrespect i show him

flick burning cigarette butts into his cavernous eye sockets and watch the ash fall through the hole where a nose should be

i’m not scared of you i tell him

he can hear the quake in my voice but neither of us acknowledge it

some days i feed an apple core to his horse and it really chaps his ass

we’re not friends

but we’re acquaintances

one day he’ll gather me up and fold me into a tiny square to shove into a saddle bag

he’ll most like likely smile as he totes me down to the fires of perdition where i’ll roast for eternity

until then he can sit in the heat and watch me scribble out garbage

occasionally flip him the bird as the air condition blows

figure i need to suck up as much cool as i can

assuming there isn’t central air in the pits below

he’s watching now so i stand in the window and scratch myself long and slow

fucking pervert

get a life

or take one

just not mine

not yet anyway

one of these days i imagine

just not today