For Zeekin - Poem by Braden Coucher
Foggy lonely Birthday December in the rose city I bought records
and whistled to myself. 'Hey it's my birthday
Can I have a dollar? '
Said a raggedy blue jean squinting
boy one year older- 'Same day sure as hell I.D. and all.'
Naturally we put the day back together
Dug through the trash treasury
And found a bracelet we suppose belonged
To a dead man-I wore it,
read the news in china
town. I saw him on the street five months later I couldn’t talk-
was in a such hurry.
The stars took him back: he died needle in arm
Birthdays are such funny things and not at all like death days-
I'll wear that dead man's bracelet till it breaks too.
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