He still had the wit
strapped to a chair with wheels
hooked to a breathing machine
laughed that his dog
would chew through the hose
He would not talk by telephone
we communicated by the magic
of electronic mail
two writers talking this and that
he talked this
I talked that
somehow we connected
Always been that way
collaborated on two novels
when he wrote a chapter
I wrote the next
surprisingly in sequence
one dealing with a river boat gambler
in the eighteen hundreds
rewriting history to fit the plot
one about two over the hill guys
infatuated with young university girl
they met on a South Jersey beach
he wrote one character
the other was mine
reliving our youth in a bottle
we shared the girl
We spent a week in a summer
playground for Manhattan’s elite
he staging a play at the local playhouse
complete with method antics
I lazing on the beach
attempting to write poetry
his play destined for Broadway
said the producer
closed at the playhouse opening
still had its rewards
we rubbed shoulders with Manhattan’s elite
at the show closing party
he with his gin
me with my scotch
flirting with young buxom lovelies
amused at the attentions
of a struggling playwright
and his tagalong buddy the poet
few would ever read
One day I went to Portugal
one day he went to Portugal
two different trips
he was taken with small Portuguese streetcars
he had a thing about trolleys
liked to ring the bell
my Portugal was multicolored fishing boats
and village tavern topers singing Fado
into my portable recorder
we talked about going back
never will
In time he wrote
about visitors who dropped by
to watch him die
the playwright tendency to dramatize
I wrote about talking to gulls
One day he died, I cried
I wait for the email he said he’d write
when he got to the other side
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Newfie Hugs, Rose
but life continues on the other side of things
we're what made it through
that night...wondering why
...G
Much peace, love and light,
Amber
in every line we all can relate to
the love of friendships
and the importance we share
and in your closing lines
my spine shivers...knowing
the empty feeling even in an electronic email
that will never be received again...
Whisper Messages from Beyond
Vickie
Regards ...
richard
One day he died, I cried
I wait for the email he said he’d write
when he got to the other side
Enjoyed. - David
I'm sure The Muse will continue to visit you, Gene, no matter where!
Axilea
Love,
Sage
Blessings, Carole~
How pure and beautiful, the integrity of this friendship is astounding. I'm honoured to read this, Gene, a true privilege.
This I save.
John
Anna
Regis