Roy Herndon Smith
A friend is dying
upstairs. Slowly. Not today.
Today, I’m downstairs
in the lounge between
places to go, people to
see. The tube’s playing
a detective show.
All’s moving toward the final
solution. Not me.
He could die any
time. I could die any time.
Everything could die.
Death and solutions
are overrated. It’s time to
sit tight and eat lunch.
The acting’s not bad.
He’s alive. I’m alive. Right
now, we’re all alive.
dust 