Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Requiem for John Warren Geils Jr.

There are new places for us to sleep, places
we don’t necessarily want to sleep in but we don’t always get
to choose such things and it’s important to be grateful,
someonf us don’t have a place at all, some of us do but are
unable to fall asleep in it. J. Geils was found dead today
and at the bar they're cranking music by the band that bore his name, 
Centerfold’s playing right now, I remember listening to that 
and Freeze-frame in elementary school, this is where my interest
in J. Geils ends, may he rest in peace, and that tent 
that has been pitched in the parking lot around the corner
for a year now has suddenly vanished, and at first I’m glad,
it made me anxious though I couldn’t say why, there are tents
all over town these days, in every vacant lot and beneath every
abandoned storefront awning, I’m not sure why
this one bothered me so, maybe because I walked past it every day
and felt somehow threatened, only saw someone crawl out of it
once though occasionally I’d see a light flickering behind the flap
Anyways it’s gone, and the bartender finally gets sick of playing
the same three or four songs and changes over to
the Allman Brothers for some unfathomable reason
and a girl in the neighboring booth is suddenly acting
really excited about the soup of the day, which is turkey tortilla,
and for a weird moment I miss them all, J. Geils
and the person in the tent, and all the old casual acquaintances
I’d see around town in places I’ve lived and will probably
never see again, the whole world feels like it’s tipping over,
the Great Barrier Reef is bleached beyond repair
and I forgot to fasten the flap of my satchel so all my books
are wet, and the tent pole is cracked,
the entire canvas feels like it’s going to come billowing down around us,
we’re all going to be scrambling for somewhere dry to sleep.


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