our curious position

Saroyan on his deathbed said,
"I thought I would never die. . . "

I know what he meant:
I think of myself forever
rolling a cart through a
supermarket
looking for onions, potatoes
and bread
while watching the misshapen
and droll ladies push
by.
I think of myself forever
driving the freeway
looking through a dirty
windshield with the radio tuned to
something I don't want
to hear.
I think of myself forever
tilted back in a
dentist's chair
mouth
crocodiled open
musing that
I'm in
Who's Who in America.
I think of myself forever
in a room with a depressed
and unhappy woman.
I think of myself forever
in the bathtub
farting underwater
watching the bubbles
and feeling proud.

but dead, no. . .
blood pin-pointed out of
the nostrils,
my head cracking across
the desk
my fingers grabbing at
darkspace...
impossible ...

I think of myself forever
sitting upon the edge
of the bed
in my shorts with
toenail clippers
cracking off
huge ugly chunks
of nail
as I smile
while my white cat
sits in the window
looking out over the
town
as the telephone rings...

in between the
punctuating
agonies
life is such a
gentle habit:
I understand what
Saroyan
meant:

I think of myself
forever walking down the
stairs
opening the door
walking to the
mailbox
and finding all that
advertising
which
I don't believe
either.