Originally published by
​Indolent Books

The Lost Canoe

​for Douglas Austin Kendall   1957-1993

 
I can’t remember how or when we met
I know it was in college and I remember you
in a couple of decades in at least three or four towns
we were the weed smoking, shroom brewing, long hairs
canoeing the Hillsborough, Ochlockonee, and Loxahatchee
slam dancing clubs that were desperately chasing anarchy
 
you main-lined Richard Hell & Polly Styrene & Giant Ants from Space & Eno,
and found the too-much-for-my-mirror girl who dubbed you Doug-lette
and preferred her brew poured over our heads to drinking it
we came from Planet Claire while we cruised the hills of Tally
a murder of us in your Dad’s discarded Newport Coupe
 
in time we lost both Sly and Onka, the only time I saw you cry
and donned the three button suit of Monday through Friday nine to five
you led me by the rope around my throat
back from the unnatural disasters of my quaking mind
 
that night you asked what happens when we die
that’s easy, I said, the universe cradles our atoms forever apologizing
for the rippling cause and effect we’ll never comprehend
 
you leave me the cold sun’s pink breath on the still water
gray that steeps as deeply into river as into sky
 

(author's note: when someone asks what happens
​   when we die, shut up and hold them.)