Dressed in an old coat I lumber Down a street in the East Village, time itself Whistling up my ass and looking to punish me For all the undone business I have walked away from, And I think I might have stayed In that last tower by the ocean, The one I built with my hands and furnished Using funds which came to me at nightfall, in a windfall.... Just ahead of me, under the telephone wires On this long lane of troubles, I notice a gathering Of viciously insane criminals I'll have to pass Getting to the end of this long block in eternity. There's nothing between us. Good I look so dangerous in this coat.
Liam Rector - 1949-2007
The Remarkable Objectivity of Your Old Friends
We did right by your death and went out, Right away, to a public place to drink, To be with each other, to face it. We called other friends—the ones Your mother hadn't called—and told them What you had decided, and some said What you did was right; it was the thing You wanted and we'd just have to live With that, that your life had been one Long misery and they could see why you Had chosen that, no matter what any of us Thought about it, and anyway, one said, Most of us abandoned each other a long Time ago and we'd have to face that If we had any hope of getting it right.