Copacetic things.

[Copacetic_One]

I wrote just to see if I could. It took me a while but I did it and I can't say there weren't at least a few tears shed. I dedicate this to Albert Beasley; grandfather, friend, my mentor.


His Shell

I sit
hands folded
silent
sad
stupid
little man
big boy
eyes averted from the shell
I tell myself it's not him
just a shell
hard wooden pews make me ache
I hear but don't listen to a man who didn't know him.
(he stands silhouetted against the sun, dirt streaked face laughing)
I stand. walk. carry.
round metal handle.
weight shared with three others
not him. just a shell.
(he looks up, bright blue eyes, guitar on his lap, wrinkled smile)
we drive. we stand.
we hear but don't listen. three rounds fire as if to scare off the pall.
(he lies on a bed. his last bed. looks at me. no recognition)
flag draped. words said.
he is lowered.(his shell is lowered)
into the earth.
not him. just a shell.
I refuse to think that this is all that's left of the man who impacted my life as he did.
not him. just a shell.