To an Old Dead Friend Reno[From Donkeyland-USA]

In the heydays of the early-sixties car-loads of us neighborhood-bums ignorant and arrogant dreamers came crashing through the streets, funny we all remained alive, free-spirited Christian infidels, with stray spirits, many never find the way out, too good to be true.

Often I used to loiter past the old church steps to the Mount Airy Bar, time after time like you, waiting for something…. There in that neighborhood we got hooked, like two bears to honey, someone, somewhere praying for our souls, “Where is God, take me from this booze.”

Now I stand outside the consecrated ground remembering your high school smile, You lost, but like one who’d won… I gave it all up, long pursuit of God’s demon, man-slayers with drugs and booze, those transitory imps, fell off you lice back into the neighborhood, like friendly mice, when you died, in your early fifties, still covered, confused, and drugged, true to your boyish wariness in high school.

Old friend, I see your wife burdened, living a single life, on whatever she can, under your hand, she was nothing worn, waiting for you to come home, broken-hearted lioness, hands of stone waiting—then you hung yourself in prison.

#1374 6/25/06