for bmx star mikey..

as i sit in this chair today,  i should have explained  or found those lost words       left, instead         choking in my throat

still wondering why your phone number  remains       on my aged,  dumb-not-smart phone         while  this sure chill in the november air

brings to mind a certain october death          and three or fours years of writing           once shared and once appreciated

as do the curious memories         of deifying the long-damaged..

i don’t wish to be remembered as gruff        or pleasants-like            when i shuffle off this mortal coil

or thought of as less than by those who truly know me and believe me to be….

how sad a life to be remembered       if inclusion meant

being clumped together with the other       ragged old hides

those distasteful humans, who with their rhummy cynic’s eye, glean happiness from criticizing the still-hopeful wordy dreamers …

how sad a life              to have to wonder         if dismissing the new guard brought self-worth or value in the end to  the elders…

how pathetic to hang onto a tattered membership card of an old phucks club       who while grousing and groaning

watch in denial       while their own pens run dry or caustic…

when all they can manage to spit out in a day are mean-spirited      wordiness         sent off to the angry air

while somehow validating their jealousy maybe, of a twenty-year         gap of lost years

while pointing with shaky old arthritic fingers at those          with a disciplined youthful, body of work…

know that it all went to hell              when an old woman’s clear memories of everybody else’s hero         standing drunk and uncomfortable in an old bookstore

was touted as creative writing or wishful thinking rather than TRUTH, not meant to impress..that i think, was the beginning of our  end…

still, i hit that google button on occasion when you come to mind and i wonder

if you turned out to be a good dad and if life for you in portland is still allowing you to

ride the juice creative..

i wish you well…

About lindalou5150

as exercise or exorcism, i write...for the eyes of others, for my eyes and heart only, for the love and the rage, i release the gamut of tell the truth and say what's often thought but not written...
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