Stuart died.
It happened at our book club.
Vinyl Café had been off the air for a few years
but seemed like a fresh memory.
Then someone mentioned how I
could do a spot-on impression.

So, I tried it and botched it
and everyone was embarrassed
        the one guy for talking me up
        me for letting him down
        everyone else for witnessing it.

It wasn't surprising
you must hear the voice clearly in your head
to really nail an impression.

Stuart's voice wasn't fresh enough.

It seemed cruel for him to live on that way,
in a clumsy imitation.
Worse, he would have spun the same story
same awkward circumstance,
          because that's life,
but his ending
would have landed somewhere comforting.

You could almost hear it.
Image credit:Noah Silliman

Rob (he/him) lives and works in Ottawa (Canada) on the unceded territory of the Anishinabe Algonquin Nation. His poetry and stories have appeared in many interesting places. If you enjoy would you read here, please check out his chapbooks Brood (available from and Other Side of Nowhere (ebook free at Don't Mean Nothing Press).