The Maynard
Spring 2014


For a Dead Friend

Because you showed up like a ghost outside a movie theatre that night and I thought all I had to do was walk up to you and take your hand and with an embrace be pulled underworld

Because Love and Death battle on the brim of a hat on that guy outside afterhours, little smurfs and plastic army men and Jesus was all: Whoa dude, can’t we just get along

Because we spent the day posting notices all over town and you said we need a new government this one is killing us and you said you were worried about the trees and the fishes and the eagles and the berries. You said we need a new government and how will we explain the devastation to the seven generations in both directions

Because I dreamed of you last night. We were on a beach at Blue Chairs. We started to make love only it wasn’t you anymore but myself and then it wasn’t me anymore but me as an old, old man

Because I can’t forget the day you died when I asked Rod how you took your very own life then before he could tell I told him don’t

Because the room is small and corpses are starting to pile up and it’s getting to the point I have to wade through just to eat breakfast. Clear the table from the clutter of finger bones and toss molars like dice that tell my fortune for a brand new day.