Past junkyard fence in search of tangled ruins
I smelled the blood from twenty feet away
But stupid adolescence spurred us on
To a car with flattened golden roof and
Blood-specked sky-blue paramedic blankets
The gorgeous sunny California day
Annihilated by the stench of death
Looking back from my perch of seasoned grief
I see myself as if it were a film
A foolish angry kid without a clue
Whose histrionic heartache was concealed
By drink and sad sarcastic indifference
Gratefully alive, I close my eyes and
Imagine the man Mike would have become
by Richard W. Bray
Tags: Poetry
August 24, 2009 at 6:20 pm
How poignant.