The White Mask

Passed out at noon
You woke up in a waiting room
Full of blurry magazines
You tried to focus and read
But you were excited to meet your maker

The room slowly emptied of blurry blank faces
Until you at last heard them call out your name

But when they showed you in you didn't meet your maker
Just a group like you
Holding short straws

And then the office fell into the hold of a galley boat
Where a black sandman flicked on a Bick while you rowed

His "click click" ticked on with no tock to the beak of a feeding chicken
Who was pecking out a beat with his beak on the bottom of his cage at a pace you were sticking to

Until through storms of feathers
You arrived at a coast on the edge of night
Where with his one remaining flame the black man took your oars
And set them on fire

And left you there with your makeshift torches
Saying "Wait just a little more
And soon you will see your maker
In the flickering lights"

But after some time
Your torches died
And it was pitch, coal, tar black

So when the
So when the white mask, white mask, white mask came at last
It was out of sight