When nothing around you makes sense, everything is equally threatening. – Mandy Ashcraft, Small Orange Fruit
Stephen J. “Stevo” Beard is gone forever and I know I will never hear from him again.
I disappeared myself for a decade or so, or so it seems. Happy to reconnect with Mr. Beard.
And when he would go incommunicado on me, I tried not to whine about it.
In March of 2020 – if I don’t hear from him at Xmas time, my birthday, I know he’s dead – it had been almost two months of silence since we had been in touch.
I like a note every couple of weeks. Think of it like a Wellness Check.
So, I asked for a Sign of Life.
‘You don’t have to say anything. Just hold today’s paper up by your face and send a photo to me.’
Nothing.
Try again. Again nothing.
Told Stevo if I didn’t hear from him ASAP, I would publish a poem about his terrible mistreatment of me.
My poetry was one of his biggest fears.
I was ready to push the ‘Publish’ button.
About then the knucklehead missed me and thought to share his new email address.
I have four for him now and they’re all no good.
Okay, Now You’re Really Scaring Me!
Third (3) Request For Sign Of Life [from March 3, 2020]
All my friends are really old and I don’t feel so grand myself. – Barker Ajax
Stevo,
Wild Dog here.
Miss the “sound” of your voice
and just the comfort of knowing
you’re out there,
deflecting the amorous attentions
of purple-haired nymphomaniacs.
My stomach feels like I got hit
with a load of .410 birdshot.
Gets a little better too slowly
every day. Guess I’m really not
Bruce Willis’ doppelganger after all.
Not Hank Bukowski’s either.
My kidney’s so old
I got a one Foster a day limit.
Think of how much
my friends will save now
whenever they want
to invite me over
to crash for a week.
Your ex-wives are all dead
if memory serves.
Which is rare these days.
The memory, I mean.
All my ex-wives
are still alive.
I have faith in you, brother.
If you’re alive,
please check in.
If you’re dead,
I’ll just wait by the phone.
You know I never answer.
Stevo,
you old fartface,
now I’m gettin’ all
sentimental,
any chance
you got a photo of us together?
Cause I’m gonna publish this
for sure
in my next best-selling chapbook.
Missing you until whenever,
please
come back.
Brother Dog