Eulogy

(Anonymous Photo)

THE LAST EULOGY OF A FELLOW TRAVELLER
—William S. Gainer, Grass Valley, CA

Mike.
Call me Mike.
So I did,
called him Mike.
Bought him coffee
pretty close
to ten years’ worth.
We never talked
much
but sometimes.

Said he drove a cab
up in Sparks
followed a woman
down here
she left
he stayed
got a room
over at the Everhart.

     There were good days
     man...
     back when…
     now
     not so much...

Spent most of his time
walking
nobody special
another face
on the corner
one of us
making the rounds
finding a bench
sipping his coffee
a cigarette, maybe two
having a taste
a little something
to knock the edge off
talking to the girls
when they’d listen
waiting for the moon
to chase him home
alone...
empty days.

I saw his hand go out
reach for the wall
miss.
The sidewalk
never forgives.

The young ones
walk by
grin
women turned their heads
try not to look
the little ones want to stare
moms pull on shirt sleeves
I helped him up.

     I haven’t been drinking, man
     been laying off
     at least
     not that much...

     The cancer’s got me.
     Three months
     they gave me three months, man.
     I’m down eighty pounds
     the skin’s turning dark.
     Can’t see the sparkles anymore
     man.
     You know how you can see
     the sparkles
     I can’t see the sparkles
     anymore, man...

     Can you help me
     to the room?
     Sixty-eight
     I’m six-eighty, man.
     That’s a good run.

I thought no
no, man
it’s never enough.
I lied—
said yeah.

It’ll be another month
a couple of days at the Hospice
somebody asking
about his daughter
nobody looking too hard
his goods in a box
out at the curb
free.

And that sign
there’s always that sign
taped in the hotel window—
a lonesome goodbye
to a fellow traveler
the last eulogy
of another dead soldier...

ROOM FOR RENT.

_____________________

—Medusa, with thanks to Bill Gainer for today's poignant poem.