He had a way
with a pen,
my friend
the part-time
con artist, full-
time drunkard
with twinkles
in his eyes
like stardust,
and wrinkles
from laughter
as loud as
a clap of thunder,
and it was
really a wonder
to watch him draw
his last breath
with such depth
like an outline
of a shadow,
a sinkhole
in the shade
on the side
of a dark ridge.
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 9:10 PM UTC
He had a way
with a pen,
my friend
the part-time
con artist, full-
time drunkard
with twinkles
in his eyes
like stardust,
and wrinkles
from laughter
as loud as
a clap of thunder,
and it was
really a wonder
to watch him draw
his last breath
with such depth
like an outline
of a shadow,
a sinkhole
in the shade
on the side
of a dark ridge.
