For Jack

For Jack

I already wrote this, gypsy man,
jukeboxes dark, falling off trucks,
tales, spinning,
turquoise shirts glinting in the dark below
following the music, the dance, the fights, the
well behaved, now, on another coast, but just.

Lights out, gone, an eye lost, and a life
Good night, Jack, we ended up badly, booze does that, and fear,
but children and lovers remain, remembering love, passion, drive, of a sorts, creative
churnings around red vinyl tables.

Although, there was that one phone call, facilitated by a friend, across the country,
and tales of Hawaii, Dorthy Dandridge, songs and Catholics oh hell I don’t remember
but you laughed, as you did, and about that eye, we knew that one was coming.




regan lee
october 2010