Death

Is your friend.

He’s the one who orders

Iced coffee from Starbucks,

And uses a fake name.

He wears thick-rimmed glasses,

While wearing contact lenses

Because prescription glasses

Make his eyes hurt.

He has a cell phone

And has three contacts on speed dial:

Clothos, Lachesis, and Atropos.

He has your phone number too.

Death calls every once in a while

As all old friends do.

You never hear the phone ring

But you know he’s there,

When you are driving through the mountains

And slow down on a tight bend

Because you are thinking,

If only for a moment,

About driving the car

Right off the cliff.