Mick was the sort of uncle every family needs
always good for a beer
Glass never half empty – “it was bloody half full”
life was to be enjoyed.
with finesse, success and zest.
He fell unexpectedly and swiftly ill
disarmingly confessing to too much
“ drink enough water it will kill a man.”
A brief service
religion not necessary
a tab on the bar at the local afterwards
err… ah… um… one question
cremation or burial ?
Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand.
Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.
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