Tuesday, February 2, 2016


it's too soon to write this

but I don't care

he (boyhood buddy) was

a master artist (one of Music and Art's finest)

a surrealist beyond what even Breton

had hoped for his movement

a lover of scotch and Southern Comfort

a knowledge of all the old movies and TV shows

on which we grew up

and many nights spent at McSorley's

(dark bock and a platter of cheese

onions and hot mustard) clearing our sinuses

while we lashed at the world

with potent tag lines

I hadn't seen him in thirty years

but at a Music and Art do a year or so ago

I got to see him fit and well despite

the cancer that he'd been fighting for so long

I was beginning to think he would wind up burying

the rest of us

but it is not to be

but sad as I am I do not mourn

like Jarry we believed in The Passion considered as an

uphill bicycle race

I hope he remembered his air pump

like Christ our race continues airbourne

for now pal o'mine

take it easy

our worldly bullshit is

no longer your concern

Content (c) 2008-2016 Philip Milito.

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