Saturday, September 26, 2015
On into the silence
You tried being sneaky, the last time we were together
- in Miami, on vacation. We drove forever
looking for Italian - and it wasn't
that we couldn't find a place,
but it had to be authentic,
cause how often do you get to treat a friend
that lives 926 miles away from you.
the biggest plate of spaghetti & ate it all, leading
to a visit to the bathroom, where you tried
to pay the bill by slipping your card
to the waiter
but I beat you to it.
You didn't bring
your wife or your fiddle, but there was always music
around, when you are. Even if it was just in your head,
or in the stories you told -
about guys you had sponsored. Some seeming
hopelessly lost in their own fictions. We talked about why
you always wear pants, and laughed in the parking lot
before you left - about something,
I can't remember. You drove around
the parking lot on your scooter, because you couldn't
the way you came in. What an odd couple
we'd make - in Starbucks, drinking Black eyes.
Maybe they thought you were my dad,
instead of two guys that met on the internet.
You could have been. I am sure you were to some,
even if you weren't.
I hate writing in past tense.
It was so warm the day we walked
the trail, where the train
tracks used to run.
So cool in its tunnel
cut through the mountain.
I will keep watch
now my friend - in the silence
here after the music.
About the best I can do, after hearing about the death of my good friend Steve Elaesser in Naples, FL. Thanks for being a real person, Steve.