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The Holy Grail Press is dedicated to promoting work that standard publishers... you know, those with standards, might be reluctant to publish, which pretty much leaves poetry.  And let's face it:  No one publishes poetry.  So in the end, we’re left with a lot of free time.




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Monday, April 26, 2010

My Neighbor to the West

I live next door to Death.

No kidding.

Death with a capital D.

The hood, the scythe – everything –

but only when he’s at work.

9-5, Monday through Friday.

Some holidays

and the occasional overtime.

Goes to the beach in the summer.


When he’s not a work,

he’s just a regular guy,

drinking a beer in the driveway

while he washes his wife’s minivan.

Not really worried if the kids play in the street.


Really, I can’t complain.

He’s quiet.

He keeps his lawn mowed.

And there’s no dead cars cluttering the driveway –

anywhere on the street,

as far as that goes.



I can’t help but get a little nervous

when he comes over and borrows a cup of sugar.

I don’t suppose there’s any point in pretending

that I’ve gone out for the day.

4:43 pm pdt 

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