[dead man]

you

were always my favorite. we discovered and roamed
pressed blood, vowed to never leave the other alone
called eachother on our very first cellular phones
our parents bought on wells & monroe. let it be known
my best memories are listening to next episode,
barbecues in parking lots and alleys and roads
cement grove baseball diamonds using puddles or stones
to signify like dumpsters set together as goals
it's safe to say i loved you, friend. dearly departed
years after that apartment. adolescent adults
stole your mom's cigarettes straight out of the carton
breaking what they told us just to see the results
construction sites, the latest nights we couldn't resist
games of SKATE. 50/50 grinds and varial flips
holy shit. what a trip just to remember the times
when December was a pine tree we threw off of the side
of your balcony in January, presents we'd buy
for our families at Osco with allowance and dimes
i sigh again and listen to the music we'd play
sitting on the porch during our winter vacation
with nothing to say. only time to waste gracefully
before we "took advantage" of a beautiful day
it happened so fast. i can hardly recall
how hastily you vanished once the hospital called
i wonder what she thought would happen? nurse in the hall
stealing opiates to shoot into her stomach and arms
we knew your mom was alcoholic. mine was the same
it all changed inside the pop of a vein. they cut you off
your number disconnected and we lost what we gained
lost everything your father could claim. you never called
or wrote. or logged into AIM. no one to blame
you left the state for shelter from a toxic arrangement
re: bruises when she felt disobeyed. knuckles and canes
showing up at playgrounds sporting fractures and sprains
all you ever said was everything was okay
and we believed you.
i believed you cause whatever you'd say
was honest. maybe childhood is remembered that way
what a shame. even after all the wrinkles we've gained
i recognize your shadow as we wait for this train.
it feels like winter break again
with nothing to say
so i wait. staring silently. still anxious with age
my mind is playing games. maybe? maybe i'm sane
and haven't fallen towards seniority's grave. a spectral gray
hear the train. you're Platform A. I'm at C. what a shame
to wallow in self-consciousness the homeless sustain.
light a cigarette and watch you walking away
choking back a breath to call your government name
your suit and tie. i'm crucified on smack and cocaine
twitching tumor brain. all my circuits are frayed
so i let the train pass and hear your memory fade
i followed in your mother's path

you'd be so ashamed.



dead man.