When Walt a little by off hand casually said to look into his eyes I knew then and there that after William D'Artagnan and Holly he wanted too to pull a fast one on me.
But brother, old dogs should no try to teach each other new...or old tricks.

Dedicated to Walt Hardester



In Nam those were the eyes they want to see,
when with a broken body on the ground you lie
looking into his funny eyes saying all’s well,
a bucked of blood and yet he saved your life,
as Charlie wished to singe his bushy whiskers
with a mortar fun-noise-maker and plenty fire.

Look at that face telling you so many things,
a gipsy face that wandered on scorching sands,
solitary sailor quarreling with the sea for nothing,
because one wave gave to his stern a friendly slap;
a philosopher that talked to the screaming sea gulls
telling them of Nietzsche and to please…shut-up!

That face is like a complicated game of mirrors,
you will see what you don’t look, all a mirage,
two dark and friendly points to take your bearings,
soft eyes wrapped with the fold of many smiles,
never showing discouraging signs to the wounded,
on the battlefield or in the back of the ambulance.

Trying to show prankish eyes, mischievous ones,
of a practical joker everybody will think perhaps,
that without that face around, are two black points,
the entrance to tunnels you can’t go and see inside,
because they guard the secret of many atrocities
perpetrated by man, tunnels end without no lights.

If you need a no nonsense friend to chat the wind,
quarrel with the sea or break a beer cool by ice,
maybe you should and consider touching base
with an experienced man that not only is a father,
he puts that wicked look of a lover in his eyes
until she reminds him “no el Zorro, just grandfather”

If those are the last eyes you see before departing life,
it’s OK, because God is giving you a wink and the last smile.