February 20, 1957 - August 4, 1982

 

He sets the bottle down easy and slow - the kind of slow that says the bottle is

already half empty - searching for right depth to let go - the kind of slow that says

there was a table around here someplace - and not that long ago - the kind of slow

that slides through the little ringlets of put down before like a commercial airliner

making a full passenger wheel-less emergency landing on a pre-foamed highway in

the middle of a Nebraska late August night - where even the well traveled steward-

esses have used to capacity their air sick bags - and the captain screams "Jesus -

Fuckin - Christ" into the loud speaker like a well written psalm of perfect expres-

sion - extracting more heart felt A Men's than Billy Graham has ever heard in all

his years on the holy Bible Belt campaign trail - and the slick synthetic tarpaulin

rolls out the door to form a perfect chute as one by one they slide to their safety like

fleet footed baseball men staeling second - no throw from the catcher - a hundred

and forty seven thumbs strung out on the great American interstate like a flag

waving in the goldenwheat horizon - waiting for a Buick pick up in a dyna flow

dream

 

He sets the bottle down easy and slow - the kind of slow that says he will be

just that much too late in going from gas to break on the winding road back home

 

His friends stare at him easy and slow - the kind of slow that says they are not

going to try to stop him