Must the toady die today? Die?
Or die today? Is that the question?
And what for? Just to die?
Why not just go to sleep,
perchance just to dream; to
unshuffle the deck; to become
a model mortal, coy and quiet,
confidently quitting whatever
scornful whips of Time or
sweaty grunts may come our way?
There’s always the rubber room
from which no traveler returns…
(To be in there or not to be…
that’s the question to be asked).
And who would? Would you?
Think it over, but think quick.
Like my friend Billy used to say:
“The clock’s ticking, Dude; if you
wait too long, you’ll chicken out.”
Poets And Storytellers United
Writers’ Pantry #66