Where Do You Find Them?

Where Do You Find Them?

Stripped of his protective husk
of agreeable friends and doting acquaintances
a man must maintain composure
poise and decorum to the bitter end

as a rule of thumb, society demands it of him
even the ill-equipped and socially inept
know this.

Anyway, since you ask—
she dropped him off in the middle of nowhere
throwing him from the car bonnet
roadkill, carrion for the crows

She tore off down the highway
picking up hitchers and was long gone
he didn’t remain there for long either
some amateur taxidermist got to him
and stuffed and mounted him
in an unnatural clumsy pose
with a permanently startled
open-mouthed expression
a plastic cockeyed gaze.

He was propping up the bar in my local
staring both into and away from
the immeasurable distance of his hand
to a glass of beer
-that’s where I found him.

A DOG-EARED PAGE

A DOG-EARED PAGE

He had the jowls of a sad hound
eyes like a frightened puppy
a bark louder than his bite and
the nervous laughter of a maniac
on a psychologically damaging kill-spree
a burst of laughter that begged like a hungry dog
for praise and approval

sought applause for quick wit
ironical quips and the generalised uncouthness
that drifted in the wake
of a misplaced childhood.

He trailed behind his alcoholism
between bars and interventions
and gigs on the local circuit
he had skill with guitars
a way with words
And a brain—
Which made him dangerous.

He had something to prove
something to sate his appetite for acknowledgement
that he had the gall, that he had balls
that he could have had it all
but for the moment
-he had fuck all

but for intellect
and the arrogance to abuse it.

Truth be told
we always loved
a good story
a dog-eared page
a dear friend
and
that bastard.