Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

the white death

he was
beautiful and brilliant
more talented than most

in countless things

sharp tongued
well traveled
and tastefully dressed
he knew the password at every speak easy
in brooklyn
and the drummer of all the world’s local bands

i remembered the way he loved me tonight
during the three hour drive home
in the white death
passing cars stranded
off the road
a three car pileup
and people bleeding
even the plows couldn’t get to us

but not me
he found me all weather tires
at good year
and saw to everything with one phone call
even made sure the men were extra nice to me

he was each one of those things
the way all the best monsters are

fuck him
for my remembrance of this
for this poem
fuck him
for being a tragedy

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