My best friend a ghost
And I speak to him
With my mouth closed.
My best friend a cauldron
Of strangulated guitar chords
And dire circumstance.
I will never forget the first time
I met his inner voice and how
We collided like freight trains blinded by light.
There’s so much I wish I could tell him
So much that got lost in translation
My best friend a ghostly remembrance.
They say take the high road
They say the path of least resistance is a godsend
But they never tell you how outdated recovery can be.
Twelve steps to Jesus
Seven steps to Buddha
Three steps to the gutter.
I went on the road in a white van
Preached about Divine Providence
The whole time O.J. was on trial.
My best friend stayed behind
I knew he was jealous that I was capable of letting everything go
My best friend hung himself because it was the only mode of Communication he had left.
October 15, 2008 1:11 PM
(for Charles Wince & Jim Shepard)