After the Last Train

by Jeffrey Zable (July 2026)

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In Conclusion
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No, I don’t think that dying is the worst thing in the world.
You just close your eyes and all your memories become a blur.
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Your taste buds won’t be the same ‘cause your favorite foods
like steak, lobster, and barbecued chicken will no longer
have that zing.
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Your so-called friends—who often seem to be speaking
through a megaphone—will wax poetic about you
for around seven minutes on the day you die.
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Other than that, it’ll be a question of how much should
be spent by a loved one for your permanent box—
this being the preferred choice given that if you’re turned
into ashes it would eliminate the possibility of your ever
coming back through scientific advancement.
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And, of course, the worst part of dying is that you won’t be able
to watch reruns of your favorite TV shows you watched as a kid,
knowing that most of the actors are gone as well…
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Running Into William Burroughs
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who I first met in 1847 at a public hanging in Richmond,
Virginia, I said jokingly, “Hello Bill, got any drugs on you
that can set us off on a telepathic adventure?”
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“In fact I do!” he responded. “But don’t want to go on one
with you! I still remember the time you put piranhas
in my bathtub and then told me that I needed to take a bath.”
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“Fabulous memory!” I stated fondly and then asked
if I could buy him a drink. To which he answered,
“Only if it’s straight whisky and I can take the bottle
with me … attempt to shoot an apple off the top of it
from around nine feet away. Somehow, I keep trying
to redeem myself, if you know what I mean!?”
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“Certainly do!” I replied. “Don’t know anyone
who isn’t trying to redeem themself for something.”
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With that, we both drank a couple of bottles
before he staggered off with the third one in hand,
which was the last time I saw him in this lifetime.
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Once Upon a Time
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What most people don’t know is that I was once a fabulous dancer.
That I had studied with Gene Kelly, Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire.
That it was Fred who thought I had real talent and should be in pictures.
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He made several calls on my behalf when a new film was on the horizon,
but alas, it was the gaps between my teeth and my club foot that kept me
out of the camera.
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Eventually, I was able to afford braces on my teeth, but I was never
able to take care of my foot, which was not only too costly, but a risky
operation at the time.
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So, the best I could do was dance on street corners for donations
which—under the circumstances—at least allowed me to keep a roof
over my head and food in the refrigerator.
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The best part was that whenever Fred was in town he’d come visit me
in my humble apartment and sometimes we’d improvise a dance
routine together.
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Unfortunately, there was never anyone around with a camera
to film us, but if there had been, the world would surely know
that once upon a time I could dance with the best of them…
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Neighbors
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“What do you mean The Three Little Pigs are going to waste?”
I asked my wolf neighbor.
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“All that good meat walking around doing nothing! I don’t know
about you but every time I see one of them I begin to salivate.
I even salivate when I see their mother and you know that she
doesn’t look very inviting.”
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“I hear you!” I replied. “But feel it would be unethical to kill
and eat one of my neighbors.”
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“You’re probably right!” the wolf responded. “Yet if one gets
hungry enough there could be no other choice.”
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Nodding in agreement, I continued on my way, wondering
if he ever thinks of eating me…
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Running Into Rimbaud in Hell
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I said, “Hello Arthur. It’s a pleasure to walk backwards with you,
but where the hell are we going!?”
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To which he replied, “We’re going to the devil’s barbecue
and don’t forget to remove all your clothes before we get there.”
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“I just hope that all the hamburgers and hotdogs aren’t burnt,
‘cause I hate burnt food!” was my reply.
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Terrible luck to have wound up here, I thought to myself.
I certainly don’t deserve it but Arthur probably does as, up above,
he walked around saying bad things to people and almost never
took a bath. Me, at least I wrote some decent poems that people
could understand, and I never slapped a single one of my detractors.
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And so, as we got closer to the barbecue, Arthur turned around
and said, “It’s time to follow convention and walk the right way,”
which I willingly did, having nearly bumped into several people
who looked as lost, forlorn, and anxious as myself.
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And when I confessed this to Arthur he just shrugged as if nothing
really mattered if you were someone who’d pretty much seen and felt it all
before the end of your teenage years…
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On My Own
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Yes, I was once quite old, but then kept getting younger
and younger until I was ready to return to the womb.
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Going back to the woman who brought me here,
who was then so old she could barely walk,
I said, “Please… I need to go back inside of you.
I promise not to cause you any trouble.”
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To which she responded, “You’ve got to be kidding!
If I let you back inside, it would kill me!”
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“But you brought me here! Don’t you feel any responsibility?”
I said in a wounded tone.
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“I’ve already done my job! I raised you so you could be
on your own. Good luck finding someone else to take you in,”
were her final words, leaving me to fend for myself.
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The Circumstances
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Walking up the frozen stairway, I said to the person at the top,
“Is this the way to the morgue?”
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Pointing down the hallway, I continued on my way
but when I opened the door that said morgue on it,
someone pushed me from behind and I fell into a pool
of hot liquid wax up to my neck.
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Somehow maneuvering to the other side, I climbed out
and immediately discovered that I was all skeleton
from the neck down.
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It was then that a guy appeared in a suit, and my first thought
was that he looked just like a lawyer who’d ripped me off
once upon a time.
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Nonetheless, I asked him if there was any way to redeem myself
before there was no hope left.
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To which he answered, “There certainly is, but it will cost you,
and we only take cash.”
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“Would you take an IOU?” I immediately asked, given the circumstances.
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Without so much as a nod, he pulled out a contract from thin air
and a pen after that.
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Unfortunately, as hard as I tried, my hand could not grip the pen,
and after the tenth try he said to me, “Sorry! It means you’ll have
to start this life over again without a single memory to guide you.”
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With that, he pushed me into the pool, and somehow, some way,
I made it back to the other side…
.==
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