BACK ON TRACK:
Sunlit porridge, black tea & poetry. Some suit from out’ve town
has stolen ‘my’ table but it won’t bring me down, it’s only
castles burning. Glancing over his shoulder at his lap top
I wouldn’t want his day, so he can borrow the magic table. I’ve
got this pen & note book, a telephone receiving messages of
good will & energy direct from source. I feel the beat
of the kick drum, see rick’s face in my mind’s eye grinning
in the spotlight of a roaring crowd, 106 decibels & climbing.
Check shirt, bathed in the pink light of ‘REZ’ as I stand at
stage side, body spasming uncontrollably to his groove.
On the other side of the storm, in the light at the end of
the tunnel, what don’t kill you makes you stronger, lighter,
laugh-er. Still sober & alive I found a brother I never knew