I'm writing this to you from the quiet section of the Greece Public Library. Ponts is sitting across from me working on some law shit, and we are surrounded by so many unknown faces, and I simply can't help but to wonder what they are all doing within the confinements of these walls at roughly 5:00 on a Tuesday evening. Having said that, I'm also thinking about what you are doing too, wherever it is that you are, brotha. I wish you could tell me about it, or send me a postcard or some shit. I wish I could come visit you too, 'cause I like to think the weather there is much better than this place we've always called home.
Yup, I hate to tell you, but Rochester hasn't changed much since you've gone away; the air still heavy with particles of winter, a chance of rain everyday, and it's all ironic 'cause I thought Baseball season has started and this is suppose to be Spring. Anyway, I like to think the weather where you are is sunny, but not sunny like the Carolinas' I miss so dearly, but sunny like a rare perfect Rochester summer day- like the days we would plan on going to The Ditch to crush beers and laugh till the moon wanted no more of us. Or maybe you're just kickin' back with some lame light beer in your hand as it rains poker chips all over your head as you watch re-runs of games from back when the Bills were good (if there ever was a time... HAHA). Speaking of that wack-ass squad, I'm sure you've heard about good ole Ralph huh? You think now that he's not around to run the Bills anymore they have a chance to do something? (sorry, is that too soon!).
But on a more serious note... I fuckin' miss you, man. I can't stop thinking about you lately. I don't know if I'll ever stop. Just the other morning, I found myself going through my stupid Facebook messages searching for some of our old convos', and to be honest, I was just doing it to make it feel like I was talking to you. It started off as a pretty emotional moment for me, but of course, still, somehow you made me laugh. The last message you sent me was when I was in Italy and you were telling me to "hurry back from my GREASY journey" so we could hit the links and play 18. I don't know if I was laughing at the fact that you had to throw an Italian joke in their, or if I was thinking about how badly you suck at putting, and chipping, and you know... driving the ball too. You weren't too bad with the irons though, that's if they already weren't thrown into the woods!
I don't have much to say in this letter to you though, and I think that's why I'm just babbling and crackin' the same jokes hoping your out there somewhere just laughing like always. But I also think I'm writing to you right now because so much is changing in my life again. I'm flat out broke, living paycheck to paycheck just to pay rent, switched career paths, and besides all that nonsense, I fell in love recently, and I wish so badly you could meet this girl; she's amazing. But I'm telling you this because If you could, I need you to look out for me in these upcoming months... they are going to take a toll on me, brotha. Seriously.
And I know, like always, you're gonna' laugh at me, but I wrote you another poem:
I heard your laugh somewhere within the rain,
and I let it soak my heart until I was sobbing in smiles.
I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered where you were,
sipped my whiskey until it was gone,
and then I pictured you:
You were you. Just you.
And I felt okay again.
I love you, man. We all love and miss you so much.
-The Omaha Kid
No comments:
Post a Comment