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Monday, August 1, 2016

28 Days

As if Monday’s weren’t hard enough, I now wake up and, reliably, think of The Amazing Bob’s last day. July 4rth, TAB’s final day on this troubled planet, was a dastardly Monday.

Painful as it is, I continue to clean and sort through all his clothes, books, CDs, sheet music and writing. Maybe, in some deep, irrational, fantasist recess of my mind, I’m thinking that I’ll bring him back by being in near constant contact with everything he touched and created. It could happen...right? Don't answer that – not today anyway.

Here are a few of his poems from 2013.
More Than This
“There must be more to life than this,”
    I still hear people say
As if someone’s gonna come to
    Just brighten their day

“There must be more to this than life,”
    I heard a couple laugh,
Staggering home on Payday Night
    Like a pair of old giraffes.

My wife and I live in a
    Little seacoast house
Where Donna chases Coco
    and Coco tracks a mouse.

Out on the porch there’s food for
    Lots of foot-loose cats.
We feed the birds as well, but not
    squirrels, dogs or rats.
What more could anyone want? Living by the sea with the person you’ve been madly in love with for 30 years, playing with the furry angels, bolstering the thuggish yet beautiful bluejays,’ seagulls and stray cats’diets and just being – that’s all we really needed.

Sadly intruding on our patch of heaven was the reality of home ownership.
House Buying
Before you buy a house, my friend, give ownership a thought.
You might as well take your bread, toss it at a yacht.
Once you’ve signed the mortgage line, you’re just another chump.
The bank had sold that place five times, before you bought the dump.
Then the bills come pouring in: the movers, utilities,
Interest, insurance, cable, the taxes and fees.
Your spouse and you are locked into whatever jobs you’ve got;
You watch for sales, clip coupons and spend just what you ought.
Soon, the appliances fail, each from its own flawed design
While the economy continues on its sharp decline.
The roof springs a leak, the bulkhead rots, it does no good to scoff.
It’s economic servitude. What can you think but “Fuck Off!”
Faced with greedheaded landlords, constantly jacking up the rent and never fixing shit that broke, TAB and I reluctantly became homeowners. Given the advanced age of our Valhalla By The Sea, something was always crapping out. We came to understand, all too quickly, why so many choose to buy brand-y new construction.
Retire to Their Rooms
Old men who have survived this long –
High school, dead end jobs, military,
Unemployment, university,
More than one marriage, crushing debt,
The long slog through a thousand miles
Of assorted bullshit, accidents,
Emergencies, surgeries, lost pets –
Weary of the endless ‘so longs’
Retire to their room with a bong.
 TAB was tired, worn out. 2015’s battle with, not one but TWO brands of cancer (plus heart attack ack acks) really kicked his beautiful ass but good. We could’ve kept on keeping on – slower, more gently, softly – if not for the return of the evil, rampaging Mantle Cell Empire.

The Pan Mass Challenge is coming up.
The Pan-Mass Challenge raises money for life-saving cancer research and treatment at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute through an annual bike-a-thon that crosses the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Since its founding in 1980, the PMC has successfully melded support from committed cyclists, volunteers, corporate sponsors and individual contributors. All are essential to the PMC's goal and model: to attain maximum fundraising efficiency while increasing its annual gift. Our hope and aspiration is to provide Dana-Farber's doctors and researchers with the necessary resources to discover cures for all cancers. 
Support the cause. Contribute to Hillel’s ride for a cure.

1 comment:

  1. Bob wrote some great lines, but it was his life itself that was poetry...and you were his rhythm. I'll have him much in mind this weekend as the miles pass under my wheels.