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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