I Stole This Eye…if you want it back just say so
My father died of a heart attack 10 months ago.
He lived in the Adirondack Mountains and drank a lot.
This poem is about me though.
I keep thinking I am having a heart attack. It sucks.
Driving yesterday a Billboard said “Heart Attack call 911”
Wow, can’t I just faint somewhere and have a good Samaritan call?
I live down a long flight of wooden stairs
covered in snow, how the hell would they get me up?
The cat would freak out. My daughter may not even come back to reality.
Thinking about my heart attack now seems funny. Really don’t worry its stress.
I wonder how many people think unfunny things are funny,
and funny things like clowns are terrifying?