Ding Dong
by Howie Good
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by Howie Good

The doorbell rang,
And I went to answer it
with the knife I'd been using
still in my hand.
A couple in their twenties,
immediately identifiable
from their clean-cut good looks
as Jehovah Witnesses,
smiled at me
through the screen door.
Hello, he said.
Yeah, hello, I said.
He waved a leaflet
in my direction.
There's going to be
a meeting, he said,
about how to survive
the end of the world.
She never said anything.
Over her shoulder,
I could see a country road,
a tree, evening.
Who wants to? I said.
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