Tanka Sequence -5-
by Lee
years out of sight
your name leaps from a message
I learn you have passed
gone the chance of reunion
but we meet within my tears
——–
cherry Swisher Sweets
and a cooler of Hamm’s Draft
driving one-handed
we fly past Deere-green cornfields
in your dusty Impala
drive-in theater
“Billy Jack” – third week running
girls in a Plymouth
glance our way then keep going
shot down, we get ripped alone . . .
——–
I sing your praises
to old friends who ignore them
you’d done something bad
shunned by the faux-righteous folks
of lily-white Redneckville
so you’re buried now
amongst those who don’t know you
my Schrödinger friend
dead to the unimportant
but alive behind my eyes
~ ~ ~ ~
© Lee Samuels
~
citing shadows 
This past Monday – via a terse, courtesy-type message – I learned that an old high school friend had recently died. I got the news too late to attend his small service. His death hit me hard: I thought about it for days.
We were members of a small-town graduating class of twenty: three of which are now dead. I hadn’t seen my buddy in thirty-five years or more; we’d gone our separate ways, as they say. The second I had two coins to rub together, I left the country-life I abhorred and headed for the bright lights of the city. My friend stayed behind: the familiarity of “the pasture” was good enough for him.
Whenever I asked about him over the years, folks would get very uncomfortable and change the subject. All I could ever get out of anyone was that he’d done something that couldn’t be forgiven – or even talked about. I guess that for most of his adult life my old friend was no more than a shadow to our undiversified and less than open-minded peers.
Thinking about it all over the past few days I decided that I hope I never learn what the hell he did that was so bad – screw ‘em! And let no one sully the memories of two good friends who too much drank crappy beer, chased girls they couldn’t possibly catch, and raised holy-hell in a raggedy ‘66 Chevy.
Lee, this gave me serious chills just reading this. i was eager to read it out of nostalgia of Billy Jack, but the reality of your loss of a friend dawned, and the dread of him being an outcast to nearly everyone. but it is obvious he was not or never will an outcast to you, and that is the most powerful thing one man has to offer another – a redemptive acceptance, even if it lives in the memories of what used to be. i have no idea what awaits us beyond this life, but if there is any knowing existence of the spirit, i gotta believe your friend is feeling your tribute. so damned powerful. thank you for sharing that.
A few minutes ago, by apparently bizarre coincidence, my wife yelled at me from the other room to tell me that she just read that Tom Laughlin (aka Billy Jack) had passed late last week. I had no idea about this at the time I wrote & published the post.
I’m like you: I think we’ll know what’s on the other side only when we get there. At the risk of sounding New Age-ish, if I remain ignorant of my friends shortcomings then my memory of him remains pure and I can easily and willingly serve as an afterlife character witness for him.
We were good kids. . . .
Thank you for your kind words!
hey “New-Age-ish” or what, i totally agree with you. no matter what philosophical perspective we come from or go to, if we find fault with our brothers, who will acquit us?
Well said!
I don’t know the right words, Lee. This was amazing, beautiful; it grabbed hold of my heart and made me want to reach out across worlds and join the hand of you and your friend, somehow. But it’s not just the sentiment, the poem is excellent.
That’s very kind of you! Thank you sooo much!
Two of my high school classmates have died in the past three months. I’d seen neither in over three decades. It is so surreal to go from childhood memories to decline and death in, what feels like, only an instant.
I thank you for your kind words and thoughts!
This is an amazing poem. I grew up in the same era, in a small town with a graduating class of 30. I love the lines “we fly past Deere-green cornfields” and “dead to the unimportant/ but alive behind my eyes.” Thank you Lee.
Thank you, Katherine!
I feared that a lot of what I wrote would be lost on anyone not of my era, but I felt I should write what I was feeling and hope the unfamiliar would research what they didn’t understand when reading it.
And a big thank you for appreciating those specific parts: they’re my favorites as well!
🙂 🙂 🙂
Lee, I don’t know why I’m crying…but I am. I could say it was the power of your words, the purity of expression, the poignant expression of lost youth…I don’t know for certain. But I DO know your tanka sequence is nothing short of genius. The exquisite imagery, especially in tankas two and three, is quite beyond superlatives. Creative wizardry of the highest order!! Way to go, Lee!
Warmest Respect,
Ron
I REALLY LIKE THIS PART!
my Schrdinger friend dead to the unimportant but alive behind my eyes
IT IS BRILLIANT. To those who don’t know about Schrdinger’s cat, they won’t know about the illusion, and therefore the metaphoric brilliance of what you did! However, I KNOW.
🙂 I mean it! The innuendo is quite good!
This is a wonderful tribute to your friend – I am so sorry, Lee, to hear about his friend’s passing. Your refusal to focus on the “unforgivable” is a wonderful tribute as well.
I also lost a school friend (last year) – she is still so alive in my memory, even though it had been 20 years since we talked.
Wonderful poem.
Hi Lee! I hope the new year is treating you and your family well! Drop me a short line when/if you get the chance. Would love to hear from you!
Ron