Hospice Leave
odd to go
from fast-track
county meet & greets
to sitting
with Grandpa Vincenzo
in the rest home
weaving baskets of twine
that was once vine
& now’s the only line
back to the rainbow garish
sun flash San Miguel
end zone I’ve left
to sit on the foggy San Fran sidelines
as Dad makes his own last
end run dash
Capt. Barefoot Broadside Union of Street Poets
Vincent St. John Local / Colorado Plateau / Aztlán
Kuksu Brigade (Ret.) / San Francisco
50011
Beautiful Art! I remember talking with your dad, sitting on one of the very few benches on Main st. at the time. I liked him right away.
ReplyDeleteIt sure is strange to watch our fiesty loved ones "last slow dash", eh.
Lori Gerdts
ah, lori. lots of memories. vincenzo (who preferred vince) had a beautiful voice, loved to clown and make us laugh, sent us money for birthdays (sometimes the only way we made the rent that month), and gave Obama a month of his retirement pay and rooted for him to win -- not a racist bone in his working class body. it's hard not to miss him...
ReplyDeleteBlessings of the Creator flow out upon Vince and those that miss him. He holds a trusted place in the Universal Service, in another continuum. We can all aspire to join him in our own good time.
ReplyDeletein our own good time, indeed. and in whatever continuum the mystery holds for us. as faery mary likes to say, "may the radiant light of our bodies bless us all."
ReplyDelete