Thursday, January 13, 2022

Exceptional (For Johnrick Hole) 

I want to write a poem that’s exceptional.
I’ll probably fail, but for Johnrick Hole I’ll take my chances.
The alphabet haunts me like Oswald haunts Camelot.

Doing my best to wash the white off of my hands because none of our lives matter if just one of us dies in vain.
Can you imagine someone dying over an air freshener or a broken taillight? Why are so many cops racist and how can any one of them look in the mirror and not cringe?
This isn’t a soapbox I’m standing behind nor is this a chip on my shoulder. I just think if you’re going to do so many poetry events you could feature Cleveland poets other than yourself.

I want to delve further back in my mind than I’ve ever gone and witness the Big Bang for all its shock and awe.
I bet it was like Brando on the set of Apocalypse Now, but leaner and willing to take direction.
Do you remember the forts we’d build as children and how an entire afternoon could be lost in mere sheets and blankets?

When Johnrick goes out of his way to share one of my poems on Facebook I’m left speechless and not only because no one bothers with poetry these days, if they ever did.
I know he means it as a compliment, just like the time he stepped up for me at Milo when I was being railroaded for being a red hot lover.
Johnrick Hole is the kind of friend everyone needs because he doesn’t sugarcoat anything or leave a person out in the desolate and unforgiving cold.

Charles Cicirella

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