Jeffrey Zable

A Wish

No, I can’t tell you why there are still so many people around.
I often wish that there weren’t with the exception of one good doctor
who’d see me in a reasonable amount of time, two or three farmers
whose land is close by, a truck driver to deliver the food, one certified
auto mechanic, my wife, a dentist, maybe one or two long-time friends,
a plumber, a butcher, and certainly a locksmith just in case I lose
my housekey and can no longer jimmy any of the windows…

 

In Hell

the only song you will hear is 1 877 Kars 4 Kids,
donate your car today.

On television, there is only one station, which plays
reruns of either Let’s Make a Deal or Gilligan’s Island.

The only foods available are french fries, chicken nuggets,
and jelly donuts.

The only beverages being Mountain Dew, Sprite. or Diet Pepsi.

As there are no houses and no materials to make any, one sleeps
outside in which the temperature is always 100 degrees Fahrenheit,
but what makes it the most uncomfortable is that there are mosquitos,
fleas, and biting midges that attack without mercy and no one
is allowed to use a net or wear any clothes to speak of…

 

Jeffrey Zable is still playing Afro-Cuban folkloric music for dance classes and rumbas
around the San Francisco Bay Area, and writing poetry, flash-fiction, and non-fiction.
His selected poetry (from Androgyne Books) should be out very soon.