Russ’ song

After costume shopping, the four of us went home
riding in the car up the mountain
(Howard would take you home first, just to make Debbie mad)
you rolled the window down
and stuck your head out
into the rain, breaking the night
at 65 m.p.h.
Coming back inside
to laugh and enjoy the not-so-silent
and asking Howard to try it too
while you steered
not afraid of anything
even crashing and rolling and dying and burning
you were on your way home
and you knew it.
I never saw you hesitate
not hanging from the scaffolding, weight leaned against a wall
brakes unlocked and ready to roll
not before a performance
when anything you do could go wrong
and two hundred people would see it.
There was nothing that could scare you
as you walked away from the car,
bouncing up the steps, inside the door, behind the curtain,
into hell.

** My book of poetry is now available at amazon: **

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