A "Friend" Named "Al" Poem by John F. McCullagh

From the first time I encountered Al, Al became my closest friend.
When my other buddies weren't around on Al I could depend.
Al was always at my house or with me in my car;
a constant presence in my life, Al wasnever very far.
When work or school caused me distress, Al would understand.
I always had the time for Al and Al was close at hand.
My other friends might disapprove, but what did they really know?
I was my best self when with Al, when I'd been feeling low.
Some tried to keep us two apart, but they could not succeed.
Having Al with me always was both a want and need.
Then came the day I crashed my car and cost my girl her life.
The police report blamed my friend Al for the death of my young wife.
I tried to rid my life of AL, but Al didn't want to go.
My guilt, my grief, my misery made my dependence grow.
So now I sit on a wooden chair in the basement of a church.
For, you see, my "friend" named Al has left me in the lurch.
I need to learn to love myself and deal with deep regret.
I rue the years I've wasted, AL; I wish we'd never met.