It wasn’t the cleverest sentiment
he had ever heard, but he liked the image,
and it was his favorite thought to kick around.

The old ideas from the old books
in the nickel and dime box
were made for a little abuse.

Not like the stuff people write now.
It can’t stand up loud noises, a little rain or wind.
The paper would rather burn up
than let the ink dry and say too much.

It always wants to be vulnerable
but never has the nerve to try.
It can’t even fake a sense of humor
and is too desperate to be bad for your health.

He preferred last-run clichés for entertainment.
Anything that got dust in his eyes
when he pulled it out of archives
was good enough for his philosophy.

He liked to catch rain in his hand
for no other reason than to watch it fall
the rest of the way in every possible direction.

Los Angeles was still best seen from the top
of an abandoned car in one of the those old
Hollywood neighborhoods that went out of business
when the silent pictures did.

Women always thought he was up to something
when he kissed their hand and left it at that.

He wore a black Stetson,
smoked cigarettes
and almost never answered his cell phone.

Every book on his shelf
had actually been read.

You see people like that,
from time time,
but then you see them again
at three in the morning
when they think everyone
is too busy throwing rocks at drive-by fire trucks
to pay attention to them.

This guy was legitimate
and honest when he probably
would have been a lot happier lying
and letting his debts pile up.

The crowd liked him well-enough,
but there were always jokes.

Some people hated him for no real reason.

He didn’t seem to mind.
Even when he disappeared three years ago,
it was almost certainly a matter of self-control.

I think it was because of his favorite thought.
I think he started walking to the edge of town
with no intention of stopping
until he got to the edge of the stage.

Wherever in the world that might be.

I don’t think he’s dead,
but I wouldn’t be surprised if anyone I asked
swore to me that he was just in the next room an hour ago.

I wouldn’t be shocked
if he called me up from the last payphone in Tokyo
when I’m too old to remember him right away.

08/27/2009

Posted on 08/27/2009
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