For Eddy Walker
I lost my mind today
for a couple hours
I laid there but not-there,
disconnected, wires downed,
half-thoughts slipping through teeth
the other half dying between my face
& the puckered ceiling's death kiss.
Uncle Eddy is parted from us,
this goodless, badless ball
hanging blue in black nothing:
sea-stained vacuum, clouded, waxy,
moon flicking round it like a moth,
even as we scream toward the great lamp -
No: pull back camera, rack focus:
this hush-centered city
dreams itself away at 2 am,
grease-legged streets, rivets of dust,
as we all sail on. I'm alone on M street,
on a mercy mission. I think of Eddy
in all of the basements he saved with story,
of his chuckled smile
& endless cigarette puppies.
Now the lung is empty:
song lyrics from another room,
can't make them out as Eddy handed me
a guitar with the hand not holding a beer.
I played into the crowd wall,
Eddy laughed, laughed in the corner.