Remembering Tim

Tim came down
like a belt of sun
over late afternoon water,
graced us for those
long, lazy days
of walks and dreams.
At Mac Donald's
he groped the girl
late night drunk,
his face as dour
as the undertakers
at graveside.
I still laugh,
such shenanigans
never go unnoticed
when immersed
in the heart break
of the
everyday.

To an Old Friend

I get you,
the down-turned
nervous-furtive
bird glance
kid
swinging elbows back and forth,
hands dug deep in pockets,
head bowed to the shadows
you crossed
along the road.
Much has changed -
I know,
the jibber-jabber reasoning
tightened up
to a smooth, rehearsed
package of perfection,
natural, it seems,
but it ain't so.
I know you from
that middle aged man
gone round in the middle
scowls you shoot
below furrowed brow,
bullets that disarm them
before they
fire first.
I know the game
the psychology of the everyday.
It's hard,
so hard.
But remember
when you're with me
you can
please
just be yourself...