WEBmikey: Marco

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Marco
1.01.2000 12:31 PM \| Link	An ode to a high school friend written in 1995. After losing contact with him for many years, I recently had news of his death. Hey Marco - let's have some coffee The student union, the Crossroads Cafe You pulled me away from my morning Fruit Loops That were so stereotypical for a commuter Though thankfully I never liked that sour strawberry cream cheese The way Scott did Telling me this was the thing to do, an initiation Starting me with double cream and triple sugar Training me every day until I surpassed your palette That would drink a second pot from the same filter But that was probably because I could afford the beans Hey Marco - let's have a meal Cook me that family recipe in your head Spaghetti with hundreds of carrots and baby shrimp The only part of your family you acknowledged Let go like the other interests I saw passing through your life Forgotten black Chinese slippers Hours of Tai Chi in my girlfriend's living room The staff of wood permanent in your callused hand Growing from the tree of a man they called the Prophet Just before I knew you at church, before your shorts Were 'unacceptable' or the redhead seduced you Hey Marco - let's go for a drive Only riding with you once in your trashed white Bug That you named Bayatta, which no one could understand Like the Latin phrase on your bracelet That months later you confided in me read 'Purity of Heart' Before you stopped wearing it You drove me home sitting on the exposed cushion springs To steal Amaretto from my dad's stash under the sink And cried in the dim light because you felt too much Expressed in a poem I had written to show you That you thought you had written days before Hey Marco - let's not be so secretive I heard from a friend you were at the mall last night Wandering the icy parking lot for stuck cars Anonymously pushing them out of the snow Your long gray overcoat attempting to cover such bitter thoughts Your scotch flask in the pocket You're walking the winter campus now in bare feet So everyone will notice your black painted toenails Against the harsh white of the library sidewalk Later at home covering your walls in brown calligraphy Seeking absolution for nothing in the aesthetic of holy words Hey Marco - let's be open again Pulled by unaccepting love to your distant Colorado cabin Sending your thoughts on Seneca in the mail Delivered on sepiatone photo portrait postcards An image of Gershwin bursting with creativity and sorrow Wearing your sad eyes Honoring a friendship I hindered in such blind ignorance Pleading with philosopher's arguments and empty praises The key you gave me to your desk in high school Used to lock away a love I only now understand In your amber pen's lonely sweeping gestures Labels: poetry


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