My
uncle Ritchie drove me nuts
every
time I wasn’t looking
he
jumped into the river,
intending
to drown himself
but
with the drought
the
water was only deep enough
to
wet his knees – and mine
as
I went in after him.
I’m
always trying to save people
from
themselves
a
regular spider man
but
without spider man’s reflex’s
just
the usual befuddled complexes
modern
super heroes have these days
too
guilty to screw the groupies
after
some band member dumped them
for
some other, prettier chick
I
just couldn’t think of making love
to
a woman still clutching
and
empty bottle of pills.
or
the girl I liked in the old rooming house
naked
expect for the red oozing
out
of her slit wrists.
I’m
a sucker for trying to make everything
come
out all right in the end,
even
my poor fool uncle who I loved
like a brother, but could barely keep
like a brother, but could barely keep
his
head out of the shallow water
as
I dragged his heavy body to shore
me
screaming the whole time,
“You
have to help me help you,
I
can’t do this by myself,”
and
guess what, I still can’t.
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