At The Red Wing

 

 

(For B.W. & His John - I never knew)

 

By invitation

your fair-weathered friend

texts his plea

to join tonight's anniversary

lovingly

celebrating saint

John's memory

(if only for two hours)

Two Brians, a woman

who's name I forget already

and a half Apache

dubbed Spanky...

 

My not-so-tiny Tim,

in his pink eye

and I, in my sundance scented

Gucci

boyband style,

commit to catching up

with the long lost

rehabilitated

native indians and

pig whispering Caffeine Boy

 

attend to

remember mutual times

the sorrow and the joy

of a John / I never met

yet toast to him anyhow

cocksuckers up to heaven

cheers to recall

his life

to the soundtrack of karaoke

cover songs to "I Touch Myself"

mutilated by a gay

pot-bellied man

flashing his beer gut

unabashed

here, where Lincoln crosses 30th,

the Red Wing Bar,

 

unpretensiously full of laughter

with it's mixtures

of dragqueens, fruitflies,

brothas, straight and the clean,

the positive

mansculine, jock, military, leather bears

young and old alike

sugar-daddies and the poor

who want to be taken home

and sold;

Heineken thick

and Greyhound, Long Island heavy

all of it appropriate tinctures' fix,

for a reunion and memorium,

a tribute performance

my Matchbox 20 blues - I raise my voice

over the din,

raspy and true (for John I never knew)

"Back 2 Good"

our anthem tonight

and the tomorrows

we keep in sight...

 

"'cuz everyone here

is thinking about somebody else

and it's best if we keep this

under our heads..."

 

Nah Nah Nah

Nah Nah Nah Nah

 

Inside the Red Wing

full of karaoke, spirits,

laughter, and the like,

uplifting

our hopes and lives

in memory of our guy

a twinkle in the eye,

a gleam

in a smile

never says

"good bye"... nah nah nah no...

 

(Meet you there in the sky...)