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a bunch of stupid outlaws

by Gabriel Ricard

We found him in Century Park wearing a beautiful
dress made of science fiction disbelief and the good love
of a deeply disturbed young bride. He was without a doubt
the ugliest woman in the entire history
of terminal birthday parties.

But he was our friend.
One of the last literary geniuses to be guilty
of traveling too far and caring too much,
and we loved him like you love a lunatic brother
with a pistol and a serious gambling problem.

You should have seen this novel he was working on.
Fifty years ago, it would have paid
for retiring to the finest brothel in Manhattan.

I didn’t know then and still can’t venture a guess
as to what the hell made him
go to pieces like that. He was always stressed.
He was always ready to go to war in his sleep.

I was used to it. His inside voice could shake a coffee cup
across the kitchen table like it was the main attraction
at a really boring haunted house.

He just woke up one morning,
watched yet another Cadillac fly over his backyard,
couldn’t get his reflection to stop talking back
and probably couldn’t even get the rain in his living room
to slow down.

Anyone would flip out after thirty years
of getting nothing in return
for that kind of madness.

A lot of that has been going around lately.

More and more often
when I get lost in a familiar part of town
I’ve noticed fewer and fewer friends finding me
just before the heat can do some real damage.

Some of them are finding religion on airplanes that manage
to spend an eternity descending without ever actually landing.

Others are forcing amnesia to the surface,
buying up Halloween masks and hitchhiking
across the country eleven months out of the year.

I’m aware of at least a hundred people
who just got tired of dealing with me.

So I’m pretty much stuck remaining loyal
to the people who can’t drive, hate walking
and can’t afford to steal a Greyhound bus or a taxicab.

I remain loyal and weirdly scared of the future,
because there was this one time a bunch of us sat around
a big table at a lousy Chinese restaurant and couldn’t stop
thinking of hilarious and deeply personal things to talk about.

It was great. When we finally left at around midnight
we had enough momentum and enough ambition
to completely take over the surrounding neighborhoods.

I have to be grateful to that kind of thing.
I don’t have much of a choice.

07/05/2010

Posted on 07/05/2010
Copyright © 2025 Gabriel Ricard

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Linda Fuller on 07/05/10 at 04:18 PM

I clicked on all the appropriate buttons for this superlative poem.

Posted by Jo Halliday on 07/05/10 at 04:19 PM

I do not know how much as a poem this works, for I am not a good judge of poems and the structure at first glance seems shifty. But every stanza here pulls up, provokes a thought; and there are many potshots taken here. There's still a sense of hollow bleakness which maybe I would have been happier to see not there, not the bleakness that the poem does require but the bleakness of the writer's lack of conviction in writing it (so it seems, I mean). Good work.

Posted by Morgan D Hafele on 07/05/10 at 09:49 PM

"He was always ready to go to war in his sleep." i love this line, and i think i've known my share of kids that are. "couldn’t get his reflection to stop talking back" great line... and been there, literally... a weird place to be for sure.

Posted by Therese Elaine on 07/05/10 at 09:50 PM

Gabe, there are so many gut-wrenching lines in this -it reminded me of the old film, 'The Days of Wine and Roses' and a bit of the 'Birdman of Alcatraz' -a kind of jazz two-step with a noose, too much bourbon, a cast of characters straight out of a carnival hell and an episode of Benny Hill...there is an echo in your writing that makes it near-painful to read, but I find it's always worth it.

Posted by Anita Mac on 07/08/10 at 10:59 AM

Stunning opening... (Seriously, I want that dress. I may start doodling it at work.) I love this entire piece, every word and phrase of it. As usual, your imagery is dark, savory and astounding, but I'm in awe of the loyalty woven into it.

Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 07/09/10 at 07:41 PM

Chocked full of excellent language and imagery. IMHO one of your best of late. Much enjoyed. Thanks.

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 07/11/10 at 01:29 PM

Brilliant naration and story telling Gabriel. A pleasure to read; stimulating, easy to visualize. Kudos my friend!

Posted by George Hoerner on 07/11/10 at 07:35 PM

I know a guy who wares a wig and dress along with women's shoes. He goes to our church and you wouldn't want to tease him about it. Another good write Gabe with all the right images.

Posted by Joan Serratelli on 07/13/10 at 09:16 PM

Another gem- great images. Your poetry reads like novellas. You have a great mind and your stories are rich and very entertaining. A great read.

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