Prose Poem By Marvin Cohen

I woke up feeling too good to be true. That was my first mistake.
I yawned, and with powerful ease of breath blew the ceiling away from my bedroom 

until the lady upstairs fell on me with violent curiosity of desire.
I married her the next day to facilitate our growing friendship. 

It was a marriage of convenience, since she was intolerably wealthy and I was sufficiently poor.
She made me move upstairs. 

We cooked our meals by rubbing our bodies together while holding the raw meat and vegetables. 
It was amazingly effective. 
Animal heat, as yet unexploited, contains unlimited possibilities as a source of energy.
We thought of selling ourselves to the government:
But that would be prostitution.
This story ends, though, sadly: 

We loved each other to extinction. Even our graves are invisible.

1 comment:

  1. It is odd that the inscription on a tombstone is let others know we were here.
    Instead of our actions while we were here.