The Book of Mark


that is what we did to each other

when things fell apart

i don’t know how no one ended up

dying adriana style

in the pine barrens

of our shared new jersey

you swaggering Greek god

warring angel in cordovan boots

who taught me to love lone rhinoceros

until you traded in your poetry shoes for high heels

the same year i did

i should have seen it

i was willfully blind

you were trying to tell me

and when i figured it out

it hit me like a death

you read with big cats on St. Mark’s Place

became a beat poet of Freedonia

and then you died

the last night we ever wrote poems about each other on our blogs

you went to sleep

watching the Red Sox

on a Friday night and never woke up

when we celebrated Jimmie Tropeano releasing his Eduardo Jones faced Gutterfish into the wild

with a bottle of Johnnie walker blue

floating on clouds of clinking glasses

wild turkey Manhattan in Brooklyn

extra dry vermouth, two cherries

was the closest we came to heaven

we ate pizza candy while floating on stars on bloomfield avenue

we had strawberry sundaes in the same booth at holsten’s

where tony soprano stopped believing

i was so in love with your gregory peck cum bada bing badass

who took me on tour when you sang the blues

in front of larry holmes’ ringside

i loved you then

i love you now

i am sorry for the wake i left behind

but i disagree with you, i deserved it

your cousin said even though we were apart she still considers me your widow

i have emerged from behind the veil of grief and found pure gratitude and gladness

i lost you but i inherited babs

the poetry queen of Delaware

a Robin’s egg who’s rarely blue

two peanuts in an engagement ring box

a sister in jcm, and the painting of calamity jane

your obituary says you loved with a rare intensity,

but were fiercely loyal

boy howdy, cowboy

you kept that door knocker i gave you

so that you could come calling in my dreams

beat poet who was my bourbon king

i will forever apologize to your bones

a wise person once told me every person has a list of people they love until the end of time

they become your guardian angels when they die

i’m ready to see that lighthouse now,

after i visit our waterfall in Grace Lord Park

i was yours and you were mine

the way you loved me

is where i find my happiness now

i can hear your velvet gravel voice

crooning sweetly as we drive down the shore

of course it is, baby girl, of course it is….

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