(For Timothy Dewitt)
He
was there.
I
was not.
He
doesn’t just tilt at windmills. He beats the shit out of them.
Never
forget the day we encountered that guy who kept bullying me.
Tim
took off his shirt and went after him.
The
guy hightailed it and never bothered me again.
Never
forget going to Dylan with him and his sister.
One
time we even were able to exchange our seats for front row.
Going
to see a legend with a legend is neither redundant nor without its bumps in the
road.
Wrote
me letters while he was over there.
Couldn’t
say where he was, but his tall tales always were proven true later in the news.
We
got drunk on that rooming house roof on Ninth Avenue and screamed Dylan lyrics
like our lives depended on it because they did.
He
called me Judas and it made me sad, but I learned to take things he said with a
pillar of salt especially when he was drunk and playing out his very own
Passion Play.
Let’s
go the distance like two thieves in the night and never trespass where we’re
not wanted unless we’re certain the Intel is good and there’s a Waffle House
nearby.
I’ve
learned knowing a real life Holden Caulfield has its advantages and
disadvantages, but when you’re backed into a corner there is no one better to
know because they’ll always come through for you like gangbusters no matter the
risk to their own wellbeing.
Charles Cicirella
2/11/17
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