I went to visit Death at
the dive bar where he
bartended part-time to
ask him to spare you.

He and I had travelled
in the same circles so often
we could be loosely defined
as kind of a friend-of-a-friend.

I sat and ordered two fingers
of whiskey over and ice and
offered to sell him my soul
if it would keep you safe.

He laughed and told me
that a soul like mine
would not cover even the cost
of the drink I had ordered.

But he did let it slip
that you would not meet him
until much, much later
according to the Fates.

As I left the dingy tavern with
Death’s whiskey on my lips
his voice followed me out the door
‘I’ll be seeing you…’



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