Last Monday

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Abstract

sn’t there. Thank God.</p><p id="9f91">Life ended last week, but that’s okay. Peter opened the gates. Told me the other guy sometimes went by Allah, Gabe and Michael said welcome home.</p><p id="6dea">Before last Monday I was nobody. My wife knew the neighbor’s son too well. The kids never called. And my priest forgot my name.</p><p id="b879">Heaven or hell, it don’t matter. I’m happy now. Lucifer cheats at cards. And God don’t mind.</p><p id="136e">Or is it Allah? Buddha. Maybe He’s Joe the Grocer, or Every man and woman.</p><p id="f6ce">It don’t matter, I’m happy. The devil drinks with Einstein. Kant teases Hobbes, and I’m there to watch.</p><p id="ea22"><b>_________________________ Michael Ritoch </b>plays at being a poet/writer. He finds joy in his wife, two daughters, cats, one is really fat

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and the other is neurotic, reading philosophy written by old dead guys, and his friends. He writes about leadership, pain, life, suffering, and whatever comes to mind.</p><p id="e15c">If you enjoyed this poem maybe you’ll like this one as well.</p><div id="f24c" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/all-my-inequities-cfb90ea2c6f"> <div> <div> <h2>All My Inequities</h2> <div><h3>Looking for forgiveness and finding none</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*B-UWMB6glJjuPXDY)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Life ended last week, but that’s okay

I died last Monday Jesus drank a beer, Mohammed played cards, And Buddha smoked a joint.

No death bed for me. Lincoln sang with Louis, Ford stumbled and danced with Eleanor, While Teddy boxed with a Kangaroo.

I joined the dark spirits at the bar. My mother said I did good. My father smiled and left me alone. My grandfather wasn’t there. Thank God.

Life ended last week, but that’s okay. Peter opened the gates. Told me the other guy sometimes went by Allah, Gabe and Michael said welcome home.

Before last Monday I was nobody. My wife knew the neighbor’s son too well. The kids never called. And my priest forgot my name.

Heaven or hell, it don’t matter. I’m happy now. Lucifer cheats at cards. And God don’t mind.

Or is it Allah? Buddha. Maybe He’s Joe the Grocer, or Every man and woman.

It don’t matter, I’m happy. The devil drinks with Einstein. Kant teases Hobbes, and I’m there to watch.

_________________________ Michael Ritoch plays at being a poet/writer. He finds joy in his wife, two daughters, cats, one is really fat and the other is neurotic, reading philosophy written by old dead guys, and his friends. He writes about leadership, pain, life, suffering, and whatever comes to mind.

If you enjoyed this poem maybe you’ll like this one as well.