His Eulogy

His Eulogy

I was lonely
So I met Jerry. And then
I had a best friend.
He was room mates with my
brother's goldfish.
His favorite foods were
echoes, and wandering ideas.
He would ride that stupid plastic elephant
up and down the walls and
all over the ceiling.
His hair was the color of Fairy socks
and his eyes were the color
of frozen laughter.
He would weave all of my swallowed
wishes into presents for me
that could fly all around my
memories. He'd laugh
at people, at the ways
they ignored their
people-ness.
But closed doors and blocked off
road would make him weep
and frenzy-dance.
Jerry, No-foot tall,
just as high as our thoughts.
We'd sit together on mind's edge, toasting
each other with the ambrosious dew of
disappointment that he would gather
from the lawns of lost souls,
then we'd smoke bowls of potential until
the smoke was so thick that I
could climb through the branches.
Sometimes we'd just hang in them,
picking and eating pictures of heaven
or hell, and spitting the pith at
the passers-by below. Some days
we'd pawn a bit of luck or dream
to pay for a ride on parachuting
coat hangers over the dry harbor bed.
Jerry could make my emptiness
run away... God I miss him
But that bastard therapist
killed him with a prescription pad.
I was only 26.