promises promises

[saw]

he was so damn drunk
I thought the muvva forker was dead
but he turned out to be merely fossilized
a not so rare-as-you-might-think condition
on the weekends around here, they call it
cocktail coma in these here parts
and mister medusa visited this place
with regularity I'm told, come hell or high noon
tomorrow, a magical place where he talked
to his salt shaker like a microphone to the dead,
where he spoke that honest tequila truth of old
buzzards with steel eyes and tree-trunk hands,
where he held his shot glass up to the sky
like a stained Eucharist to proclaim,
" Abigail honey, I'll be comin' to join you real soon!"

[Kailashana]

We must have gone down a rabbit hole together. Yesterday, i heard Red Foxx say: Lizbeth, it's the big one, I'm coming, (paraphrased). I thought about writing a poem then forgot.

And today you write this one. Of course, you steal my ending.


~A