Poems by D.B. Cox
the last time i
saw david
--- for David Corley
- he was dead
- scrunched down too far
- in his coffin, his skin,
- pale & shiny
- like a dime-store doll,
-
- his beard already
- breaking through
- the makeup --
- yeah bro looks like
- decadance has lost its shine
-
- i watched him change
- from a big-eyed kid
- to a lowdown
- roadhouse stomper;
- flying that wild
- electric-flag hair,
-
- prowling the stage
- like a hungry cat,
- playing in tongues,
- while thumping drums
- tracked down
- the voodoo
-
- then bang lying there
- pale & voiceless
- blue notes locked
- in a bronze-colored box
- sightless atoms
- that could not be moved...
-
- ...almost thirty years ago
- a sad, crazy, gray day
- thundering drunk, all of us
- angry about
- the good times
- you were gonna miss
-
- well, the band played on,
- wheels kept turning,
- & days blinked out
- like forgotten lamps
- in a ghost town
-
- but "wild man" just so you know
- times never
- got any fucking better
(This poem first appeared in Zygote In My Coffee, August
2004 -
Issue 17)
©2005 D.D. Cox. Used here by permission.
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