posted April 16, 2007 02:52 AM         

I remember his blonde hair
it was a little spiky on top
and we used to joke
that he took longer than

a girl to get ready
when we all dressed up
to go dancing
and smiling
and flirting
and laughing

smelling like perfume or Polo
and Drakkar Noir

I remember he was quiet
The other boys were loud
and he was quiet
and gentle
and he followed them

We would go to the cemetery
and Jon would run
and scale
the walls and stone
like a streak of red
and Brad and Dan would creep off alone
and jump out to scare us
to death
smiling yellow smiles
And Tim would puff up a loyal and heroic blue and tell them
to take it easy on the girls
and Dominick or Mark would give us
a hot, fun wink
and Russell would sit
still
and alone
and quiet
on a lone wall by a mausoleum

or walk quietly toward the trees,
looking up at the stars
and his very stillness would
stop the youthful frenzied activity
of one of us, who would calmly walk
to his side, drawn to the
peaceful green of his being.

When they hung out at Jon’s house
they were all redder
wilder
more experimental
even Russell
who followed

I remember the afternoon
they told me
he was dead
that Jon held him in his arms

probably waiting too long to call the ambulance
the only time he was slow to do anything

that he held his head
his blonde spiky hair
and looked into his eyes
while he convulsed
and died

I remember we went to the funeral
without knowing or acknowledging his family
as if he was our family
immaturely unaware
in our own grief

Russell lay in the coffin
still
alone
and quiet

a sacrifice on the altar of youth

We all went to the cemetery
our cars creeping along the winding drives
that scaled the hills
and ran along the walls

between the stones
and when we arrived
at the burial
Jon boldly led us
around the stones
while Brad joked nervously to relieve the tension
and Tim hovered over the girls

we walked quietly toward the trees
and stood
surrounded by green
and as Russell’s family moved away from the coffin
our family advanced
calmly
drawn to the stillness
stopping our
frenzied
youthful
activity

long enough
to say
goodbye

We tossed memories and irreverent tokens
into the grave
to our friend

slips of paper
with words of love
lighters because he always somehow ended up with ours
condoms
because that was all they had left in their pockets
to give
“Good luck up there,” friend!

We traveled
home
Well, to Jon’s
lost in the unknown depths of our tender emotions
and confused by the barrage of thoughts and insights
that had invaded our minds

We sprayed each other with the garden hose
laughing until we cried
so glad to be alive
dancing in rainbows under the cool blue sky
and the red, yellow, and orange sun

posted April 18, 2007 01:08 AM         

Born November 2, 1973 in Iowa City, Iowa

and died July 3, 1991

posted April 18, 2007 01:38 AM         

so very very good, dear Melody.

posted April 24, 2007 12:49 AM         

Girl Gone Wild
or just a child
with twisted inspiration

Feminine power
Feminine mystique
from the pages of Cosmopolitan

A literary rag unnaturally birthed
from the bulging womb of
masculine agenda

children manipulated
into becoming
cold,
unfeeling

Corporate slaves and prostitutes

Over-used
and
Underpaid

posted April 24, 2007 04:53 PM         

Fear wears a costume
A child
on a chilly fall evening
Pretends to be
A powerful magician
A superhero
Or a villain

He doesn’t need you
To hold his hand
But his world is ominous
He jumps at every shadow
Starts at the natural sound
of a dog barking
or a car starting

He would run
Into the road
To escape