There were 100 people in a village  
One was a girl  
So beautiful  
She was decidedly the most beautiful among them  
The 99 others decided  
She made them feel ugly  
So she was sent away  
When all she wanted to do was stay  

There were 99 people in a village  
One was a girl  
So beautiful  
She was decidedly the most beautiful among them...

Steve the ocelot
Works at the supermarket
But can't reach high shelves

It's the ones that get a hit, maybe two
That'll shred your soul apart
It's the poets with followers a few
Who's writing pierces the heart.

It's the poems that you can't believe aren't trending
That are worth a read and then another
It's the poems that are beautiful and rending
That should be on this site's cover.

I looked at your name in my phone,
the picture and last post
from your Facebook account
sent to and from space
on transmissions and airwaves.

I have a hard time remembering
the last time I saw you - at a bar,
the Blackhawks and the Bruins
making history on some LED screen,
while we sipped on cheap beer
and reminded each other
that our jobs aren't that bad.

A wise man said friendship
needs constant repair,
like your old red Jeep,
always rattling and clanking
for one reason or another.

And I realized tonight how things have changed:
that we're not growing apart, just growing up,
or maybe it's both, and maybe it's okay.

lamplight bathes
the empty street
and the constant
tick-tick-ticking
of my bicycle's chain
soothingly
fills
the silence