618. BROTHER LEO

BROTHER LEO
I am tooling around with nothing to do,
with time on my hands, and I have
nothing to say. Brother Leo, you were
always so calm - none of this would
have phased you. I can hear it now:
"What is it you would have you say?
Something important coming your way?
Pray tell, let me know." Then we'd
both laugh it off - you'd go back to
your pipe and ledger, I'd return to
my book.
-
Today, instead, I visit your grave.
You are gone now seven years
and I've not (to be honest) changed
a whit. I still have nothing to do.
I'm still tooling around, this time
driving some stupid little tan car.
I pass the corners we used to know:
that crazy grocer where you set me up,
the small coffee shop with the wizened
maid. It was all so fun, but now it's done.
-
I whiz the light, barely yellow, and some
fetid little cop pulls me over. He asks -"what'd
you do that for?"... I thought that was supposed
to be my question, and laugh. Of course, he
doesn't get the joke. So I said "I did it for
Leo, my friend who's dying in 15L". A
total fabrication, but what the hell.
-
He OK'd my paperwork, said
to not do it again, and let me
go. 'Go see Leo, and
good luck.'