This is My Last Poem

because I’m sick of my own voice,
tired of selling you my life, nauseous
from listening to you (and me).
I’m exhausted from talking to God. Listen:

I just got off the phone. My friend’s latest
manic phase resulted in God talking back.
His mother said that “while this was delusional,
the religious experience was real.”
Excuse me, but I can’t tell the difference
any more. When my friend hung up I listened
to the dial tone for awhile.

first written around 2004. And no, it wasn’t.

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