To an Old Dead Friend [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
waitingthen you hung yourself in prison.

#1374 6/25/06

See Dennis’ web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com