Monday, October 05, 2020


The fix is in
The Whiskey Priest is all whiskied out
He made up his mind and it was a big deal

Listening to Lou, but it’s not the same without him here
Nothing is the same since he checked out like Mr. White
Rep and Tommy Jay tell me they don’t want to talk about him, but I won’t be told what to remember or what to forget

October 16th. looms in infamy
So does October 19th. because that’s when my mother passed away
My good friend Dan’s birthday is also in October so I’m forced to take the good with the bad as a “Halloween Parade" passes us by

We break open our hearts with memories that even our skull banks have a difficult time wrapping their metal or meat around
It’s like some fifties monster movie where even the a actors are treated with disdain because everyone’s a suspect when the bad news is delivered like a corpse
The world is broken and the world has turned to shit as narcissism becomes a national pastime and we shoot apple pie into our veins because Uncle Sam wants you to forget he ever existed

I’m not the keeper of his archives even though that’s what I’ve been told since his death bell began to toll
I am a friend and someone who continues paying tribute because he’s the best and worst thing that ever happened to me and I’ll never forget when we listened to Townes and got lit on our drugs of choice
The Remington up in his gallows calls out like broken teeth in a pugilists’ roundabout mouth as I put the needle down on Sean Lennon’s Into the Sun and go there with Jim

Charles Cicirella


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