Paul Dickey The 2River View, 9.3 (Spring 2005)
The Consequences of My Actions

I have one last chance to get salvation. The wife and kids are dressed to go to the church. She claims I neglect her. You love that mahogany desk more than you do me. Yes, dear, I am writing this poem. Well, if you must know, I choose to call it a prose poem. I rush out to buy cigarettes and a lottery ticket. I drive up to my own gravesite. Some of the people who knew me are already there, almost crying.

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