He used to date a friend of mine;

a friend he betrayed;

a home where he stayed;

an oedipus nightmare

I'm glad isn't mine.

Enough of that though;

I can't stand those rhymes...

But I remember feeling him

watching me when I wasn't

facing him...

Turning to find his eyes aimed

where they couldn't shouldn't

wouldn't be looking...????

And when he shed his long

locks & shared the expressions

that had long been hidden

I knew right away why the

others had fallen...

I dreamed about him after that...

I listened to my friend's Lenny Kravits CD

over & over & when the bridge from Believe

played he followed me through streets &

onto highschool playground to kiss me

& weep.

And when on Mother's Day

I found myself alone with him

in many rooms of the house &

in my car where he had followed me

& hardened me & had to have known

through the way that he whispered his fingers across me

& looked into my eyes & said all those things

with lips slightly parted with the rough

& tumble of lust filled words with no real importance...

well... my friend guessed right away what had happend

& then I knew I wasn't crazy.

Months later when he was bound by girlfriend & Chicago bound -

he drove me to Denny's to say goodbye to camper friends...

But my friends had been dying & I was too close to crying

to feel arousal or to escape my own dread...

He told me he was going to Chicago to be an artist

& that he would be famous

& that I could have anything that I wanted...

Anything...

But what I wanted was dead, or

it was leaving for Chicago & I couldn't

bring myself to say: You. I want You.

Because seeing him with her & knowing he

was leaving was another sort of death

that hurt just as much as the wanting him

made me feel guilt in the wake of his torrid past.

So I said: What I want is dead...You can't give it to me.

He told me not to be sad & I think he tried to make

me smile as we spent hours at Denny's & then said goodbye

back at the house where friends lived.

I saw him, maybe once after that... or maybe I didn't.

He came back from Chicago, or at least I think

someone told me he did.

I've heard bits & pieces about him...

Slacker... Loser... Betrayer... & Liar...

Maybe we just had too much in common?

But I still think about him sometimes

& so I wrote this.

- For Lonnie Hammel -