I Guess Ya Had to Be Thereyou said,
"the best thinking you'll ever do,
you'll do on tiled floors."
and then you went and died, didn't ya?
knee-deep in aphorisms
and burnt-out origami cigarettes;
contorted, and crucified by silverware
on your favorite booth table in that swan-dive
of an all-hours diner.
i bet you were writing at the very moment
that your whiplashed little soul decided
it was gonna blow this town without ya.
it probably stole your ink-stained napkin on the way out:
some suicide note for a man who never lived
or a witless fuckin' diatribe
about why you couldn't be bothered to describe
the greatest prank you ever pulled on god.
and somebody, somewhere
was failing a Rorschach test
with answers like
"a fallen angel chained to a jukebox," and
"Tom Waits throwin' dice with the devil"
and the rest of us?
well we're not even gonna go to your funeral,
because yeah, we're still pretty pissed off.
you told us that life was this amazing inside joke
and then ya didn't stick around to explain it.
now we all gotta sit here
on these goddamn freezing dirty tiles,
and try to figure shit out for ourselves.
we miss you, ya fuckin' asshole.
Poetry by Vince Blake
Read 672 times
Written on 2010-02-18 at 05:49
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