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YOUR CART

Happy Birthday: What Might Appear as a Final Exit

John Dorroh

I answered the door wearing a tan terry cloth robe. It wasn’t mine. Tiny metallic stars of many
colors dangled by threads off the rough material. Is it you, God? Is it time? Are they ready for
me? I’m not ready for them.
 Baby gazelles surrounded my ankles. They cackled like chickens
the minute they knew they were going to lose their heads. A silver spider monkey named Fifi
swung from the light fixture. Her breath was cinnamon dust. I felt that she loved me more than
the chickens. The thunderous voice of the god-thing said You have 23½ minutes. Please shower
and change into clean clothes. There are special guests who have not seen dust or dirt in eons.

I stumbled to the shower. The chickens said No! Fifi said No! They all chanted Don’t go. Please
don’t leave us. There is no love where they plan to take you. Only crispy fried shallots, ghost
peppers, and edible egos that taste like soured courage.



John Dorroh reads poetry every day. Last count, he had amassed over 400 poetry books. In doing so, he has "met" a lot of new voices: CT Salazar, Alicia Mountain, Aimee Nezhukumatathil, Todd Osborne, and Katherine Pierce, to name a few. His poetry has been selected six times for Best of the Net. Hundreds of others have appeared in Kissing Dynamite, River Heron, Feral, Many Nice Donkeys, North of Oxford, and Pif. He lives in Southwest Illinois and has writing homes in New Mexico, Asheville, Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, and a mountain cabin in East Tennessee. ​
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