While Peter had his stroke
I was eating cheese puffs
getting blown by some overaged professional
thinking “it doesn’t get much better than this.”

As Peter raced to the hospital
I was ordering another pair of pies
from another international pizza chain
that was trying to take the food out of the mouths
of working mothers.

While Peter was lying in bed
unsure if he would speak again
I was talking back to the TV,
telling Sam to just marry Diane
and get it over with.

When Peter was recuperating
I was masturbating,
When Peter was healing
I was dealing to some friends,
smoking up most of the profits.
When Peter got well
I left town for a spell.

When Peter died
we’d been out of touch for years
and I didn’t know.
My soul, though,
had left this world
long before his.