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Oct 112014
 

by Joseph Ferguson

 

One night

No one around

Nothing to do

Bam‑Bam and the Electrician

Joined forces

And funds

For a nickel bag

They smoked up

At the Cardiac Center.

It musta been summer

Smoke racing from the pipe

Seeds popping

Hot red red streaks

Across a still‑lit sky

Stars showing through.

They didn’t normally hang‑out,

“You know Wizard?”

“Yeah, he sucks.”

“You know Hose?”

“He’s awright.”

Chokin’ back tokes

As they talked,

Their words encased

In cartoon balloons

Of smoke

That

Exploded

When‑

Ever

They

Had

To

Breathe………

Maybe Bam‑Bam

Was still wearing

His vanilla‑white

Good Humor suit

Stoned, smiling

His Good Humor smile

While the Electrician

Was wired up and rarin…

Tossing Nietche neatly

Over Bam’s head

Until meeting

On some common ground

Like Baseball.

And maybe Bam‑Bam

Still had his vanilla‑white truck

And they joyrode

Ringing the bells

Watching the freezers

Steam into the night.

And maybe,

There was

Something in that wind,

Whipping between them,

Or some Zodiacal sign,

Errant curse…

Some damn thing

That doomed them both

Years later

Years apart

To ride the shot‑gun seat

Of best friend’s car

To oblivion.