Wednesday, December 30, 2009


I called my friend’s name
Once or twice
He came out the front door
Opened the metal gate and said:
Come in

I walked in and sat at the table
We talked about
Cars and trucks and
Better times

He offered me coffee
And I accepted
He put his son
In charge of the coffee maker

His son is good kid
I wanted to teach him
How to play guitar
But he suffers from arthritis
On his fingers

We talk some more
About the 90’s
How things are not the same
They are never the same

I remembered the time
When the strange truck parked outside
My friend walked to his room
And came back with a revolver on his hand
Sat at table and continued the conversation
Keeping a focused eye on the window

We talked about radios
And he made
And international call
On his cell phone

The voice at the other end
Sounded sleepy
You woke him up
I said
No I did not
He said
That’s the way he talks
He added

You should do it!
The voice on the phone said
This is a good opportunity

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