I see you Blue Brother
On the corner of Utah and Prairie, Bottle in a brown bag, passed, shared.
I stop and say hello.
We knew each other as children.
I'm offered the bag,
I take a hit of the burning wine, We talk of family, memories. Three kids
And no money. I tell him
A working man can't get ahead these days.
He smiles, sad in his eyes,
Says time's have been better.
I say yeah, I know.
But he knows it's better for me.
And I know too.
And he knows I wish for for something else.
He sees that also.
He knows the veil of blood,
The truth of the Holy Tree.
I scratch for meaning,
He knows it's older than the ground we walk.
And we smoke and we talk Of the desert and the mountains
Sharing the sunshine of memory. And he laughs,
And I awake to the sound
Of the city.
And the bag comes around once more, I look at him,
Trying to remember us as children. I pass on the bag,
Say I must be leaving.
I turn away, a light rain
Begins falling.
I reach my car, hearing a siren, Smelling the stink
Of the city.
My friend disappears In the shadow.
I turn the engine over.