The Last Laugh

I fixed the holes in the caskets, so now the dead can’t escape. No use throwing good money after bad. Since there are no other suspects, I’ll just pick up where I left off. God may have grown tired of me, but the boss can’t fire you after you’ve quit. I look heterosexual, although I’m really homeostatic. Of course, under your clothes, you never know who your true friends are. When the piano tuner left his business card on the television set, his motive wasn’t clear. I listened carefully, but there’s no accounting for the night’s black-atomed silence. Although I’m not a Venn diagram, I overlap with myself. Despite the gray areas, I’m comfortable in my own skin. Say, what do you suppose that sorry pack of hyenas is trying to tell me? They think they’re so funny. If there’s any laughing to be done around here, by God, I’ll be the one doing it.

Brad Rose was born and raised in Los Angeles and lives in Boston. He is a sociologist, and the author of a collection of poetry and flash fiction, Pink X-Ray (Big Table Publishing, 2015). His two new books of poems, Momentary Turbulence and WordinEdgeWise, are forthcoming from Cervena Barva Press, Brad’s poetry and micro fiction have appeared in The American Journal of Poetry, The Los Angeles Times, Folio, decomP, Lunch Ticket, and other publications. www.bradrosepoetry.com Selected readings can be heard at https://soundcloud.com/bradrose1