Once prescribed, but you don't really need them.

I know how it'll happen
twenty, thirty, forty years from now
standing in line at a grocery store
or gas station, if either still exists.

If I still do.

A tap on the shoulder from behind and
the click of the hammer being pulled back
though not necessarily in that order
or maybe just him asking if the name belongs to me.

The voice.
The voice will give it away
and the smell of cigarettes and mediocre whiskey
and I won't have time to explain
or even finish nodding my head
before these brains cover the counter, the cashier in front of me
as somewhere miles off graves roll and statistics cheer
as the cycle ends and truth prevails again
though the headlines won't show it, only a senseless act.

An old friend used to tell me
"It's not a lie if you believe it,"
but those are a coward's words to live by
so I let him keep his beliefs to himself
thinking I was any better.

It's best we formed factions, parted ways
but I see the similarities now.

The deathbed confessions of a sinner of our caliber
could take weeks.
It's a good thing I've got unemployment insurance.