Short and maybe not so sweet. The concluding
words of this piece came to me in a dream
and were only preserved because I woke and scrawled them on a bedside
scrap of paper before they evaporated
as most dreams do. The words were maybe better suited for the lyrics of a George Jones song than a poem.
For months my dreams have flirted
around with the Coronavirus pandemic,
but this apparently had nothing to do with those.
I do not know a Billy James, or anyone quite like him, but I knew what this imagined notice told me. I do know that despair, alienation, addiction, and suicide take far too many young
lives.
Obituary
There it was
crowded in
a bottom corner
of the obit
page
lost amid
the septuagenarians
and former
pillars
of the
community.
No picture.
“William (Billy) James, 23
died
unexpectedly Monday.
no arrangements
pending.”
Died unexpectedly—
code words
for suicide
or O.D.
No family acknowledges him,
estrangement
now permanent.
No alma mater, service flag
or accomplishments,
Billy lost his last battle
with loosing.
—Patrick Murfin
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