he spun a story, embellish
to him was a vegetable,
he'd joke with every head
medusa had, and get a laugh
from just as many.

he'd tell me to buy
a new rubber, the one
in my wallet was aging
and all i'd do was
hurt somebody.

he'd argue with the rich
over a parking space
that he had reign over
by formality of
being there first.

he'd catch hell from nephews
when he'd miss a quail
or a squirrel, all the time
i lived in the knowledge
that he meant to miss.

he'd remind me i couldn't
wear those beer cans to class
and that the bar owners
had cadillacs and that
they were'nt my friend.

he's a truck driver-philosopher
who spewed with loving acquiescence
a wisdom found afloat in his smiles
and partnership with earth
as his power was his humility.

11/28/2005