TO NIGEL PICKARD
You know as well as I do
it’s impossible to write about some things
and adequately express how one feels.
However much we value words
and live for words
we know words fail us at the most important times.
We can get close, but not close enough.
Allow me to be selfish
and say if it goes on like this
there’ll be nobody around to say Goodbye
when it’s my turn.
And I’ll tell you something else:
it took about 15 seconds to write
those 11 lines.
Which proves some kind of point, I think.
But since I was told
I’ve been walking around numb.
I want to give you one of those poems you love
that crap on for about a page and a half
and you seem to understand them better than I do —
and I wrote the fuckers.
I’ll bring you one when I come, okay?