04-18-2022, 07:55 PM
Hello?
A few months after Nanna died
Granda said to me one day,
"Still no contact bonny lad".
He's been gone two years now,
and everyday I wonder why
he hasn't been in touch?
He was a real good man,
went to church regularly.
If anyone were allowed a phone call
it would surely be him.
Over-dozed
I remember the afternoon when you, my good friend, appeared at my door,
blazing a trail of halcyon rust, you pirouetted like a helpless feather in the wind,
bounced elegantly off two walls and let gravity pull you to the nearest chair.
Mumbling about how much, how clean, hitting a pipeline,
the dark crimson surge and heaven cascading
through the walls as a tidal wave extinguishing the pain.
Without saying a word I continued playing the battered Spanish guitar
that some tone deaf fool had left abandoned after judging it with their eyes.
"That's nice" you said. Smiled, swayed and drifted into bliss.
Content to just be; I encouraged the guitar to continue singing sweetly
until gradually; it dawned on me that I was slowly killing you,
gently lowering you back into the womb and away from realities grasp.
Watching your colours fade into baltic blue you looked so peaceful.
I brought you back with the old routine of face slapping and cold water.
You thanked me, but I didn't want any thanks.
I just want to know where you went and what you saw.
A few months after Nanna died
Granda said to me one day,
"Still no contact bonny lad".
He's been gone two years now,
and everyday I wonder why
he hasn't been in touch?
He was a real good man,
went to church regularly.
If anyone were allowed a phone call
it would surely be him.
Over-dozed
I remember the afternoon when you, my good friend, appeared at my door,
blazing a trail of halcyon rust, you pirouetted like a helpless feather in the wind,
bounced elegantly off two walls and let gravity pull you to the nearest chair.
Mumbling about how much, how clean, hitting a pipeline,
the dark crimson surge and heaven cascading
through the walls as a tidal wave extinguishing the pain.
Without saying a word I continued playing the battered Spanish guitar
that some tone deaf fool had left abandoned after judging it with their eyes.
"That's nice" you said. Smiled, swayed and drifted into bliss.
Content to just be; I encouraged the guitar to continue singing sweetly
until gradually; it dawned on me that I was slowly killing you,
gently lowering you back into the womb and away from realities grasp.
Watching your colours fade into baltic blue you looked so peaceful.
I brought you back with the old routine of face slapping and cold water.
You thanked me, but I didn't want any thanks.
I just want to know where you went and what you saw.
wae aye man ye radgie