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For Alexander Isaiah de la Cruz (1988-2009)
“Dust thou art
And unto dust shalt thou return.” –Genesis
3:19
Nightmare car-crash
Snuff’s out burning incense
I think I may have loved him
As much as I hated him.
We had just finished talking
And theorizing about twenty-one.
Hops and Barley and Basketball
If he hadn’t taken that drive
He would’ve stepped outside
Today and declared it a beautiful day
Let’s go to the park and play some ball
The ball tangled up in the net
The Old Folks say that
The Young Punks think
They’ll all live forever.
And they’re right about that.
The Old Folks, I mean.
But My Man was in touch with
A feeling so primal that
He was something like
Nietzsche’s Superman
Walking a Tightrope.
Your Confidence was
Immovable as stone.
You had us all tricked
Into believing that you
Might be invincible.
But the Old Folks know better though.
I understand, now, your sense of excess
The way you let instincts hold the reigns
I understand because I know
That some music just doesn’t sound as good
As it should until you’re hearing through
A mind that has been up for three days
And you’re catching your third wind
I understand because you were like that
Flying Jewel, blazing bright for the rest of
us.
The All-Night Drug-Prowling Wolf
You always liked the Bible.
Now you have the answer
To the question on everybody’s mind.
And you’re with Joe Strummer, Jesus Christ,
Jam Master Jay and Jim Morrison.
So I cannot imagine you would want us
To despair for you.
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