You were always friendly, with those that you liked
but enemies were easily met. I guess they just didn’t
understand you. Its easier to push someone away
rather than try and relate. Convenience is a burden
in disguise. I didn’t know at the time, but you were
the legend of this town.
Hopping the fence near the river, we settle near
the over-grown grass and weeds,  
At that age you don’t drink for
the right reasons, you drink to have fun
but as men, we drink to stay young.
You grew up much too fast, and things
got ugly.
Often times I wondered about you.
So beat, and covered in soot, but
in passing, finding love. Happiness is
only an appearance, I guess. We pretend
to find joy in things to try and forget that
we are alone. He never forgot. I guess that is why
it was so easy for him to walk away.
In my imagination, I saw you passing
a space-bag full of merlot to another
lonely companion in the back of a freight
train; hoping to make it to D.C. before
morning arrived. Old and crusty, but
young in years, almost like
Cassady or Kerouac, but without the gusto.
Too afraid to stay in a single place.