dimanche 18 avril 2010

Bilkovitch on Salmon Days

Bilkovitch, I knew him well
Just a little clown from Lower East Bay
He took himself out of town
each year on Salmon Days
to escape the humdroning
of a mediocre parade
paradisiacal façades
and the red-haired girl who
flagged his heart
with her knotted scarf

All the talk about Salmon Days
found him reeling on the sand
He crouched, picked up a shell
and glistening in his rage
commenced a tirade against pretty
girls who play songs
that go all wrong
Promises the gods never make
except when the wind blows east
on Salmon Days

I knew him as a fool then
with his wisecracking mouth
flubbing like jelly in the East Bay wind
He tried to hang himself once, twice,
three times over Salmon Days
Each beat of his heart
built a shelf that held a rock
stamped with his obscurity
Transfixed, his thoughts washed away
with each throw of the rune

He's mad, Mr. Bilkovich
A chronic loner with only one glitch
The needs won't let him be
The sea has bled him free
to merge with the elements
and to author a tale
of the red-haired girl who refused
to look him in the eye
And who died in a wasteland
East Bayers call Salmon Days

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