Two years ago…

Hello all,
hope you are all,
hanging in.
I had a bit of,
a scare with,
my thyroid,
had,
a lump,
kind of big,
that required a,
biopsy,
results are in,
no Cancer,
and now,
to concentrate,
on getting,
mom,
right as rain.

I have always loved,
that expression.
Rain washes,
away,
dirt and tension filled,
humidity,
rain rights things,
things grow,
flowers, trees,
ideas,
rain is peaceful,
rain helps,
dormant ideas,
...
emerge,
right as rain.
The universe rights,
itself,
right as rain.

Two years ago,
today,
I had drink on,
a lovely terrace,
with my girl,
and,
her daughter,
followed by,
dinner at my favourite,
Verdun eatery,
it was a Wednesday,
my day off,
quiet everywhere,
but,
Spring in the air,
and,
two days before,
my birthday.
It was a very good day.

I got home,
checked my emails.
What had been,
a lovely afternoon,
and,
evening,
turned into,
a night of pain,
of deep,
unrelenting,
sadness.
Two years ago,
I lost my friend,
Francoys,
known to my readers,
here,
as: the anarchist.
My friend, the anarchist


My world changed,
that night.
It got a little darker,
it got a little sadder,
it certainly got,
a little lonelier.
I lost a friend,
I lost a confidant.

Chasm


I have few friends,
those I have,
I like,
I love,
are top notch,
I know many people,
I like lots of people.
I am a friendly person,
I think.
I don't open up,
easily

I realize this might be hard to fathom,
after all, I do write a blog in which I share,
my etats d'ame and the what can appear as minutia,
of my life, hysterectomies and hormones, fights,
and bridge bombings, but, that's different,
to opening up, face to face, person to person.

I had absolute trust,
in Francoys,
he listened and talked,
I listened,
we had a perfect friend,
accord.
I miss him,
I will never stop missing him.

I am not angry at him,
I do not think,
he should have taken,
better care of himself,
he was perfect,
as he was,
a walking laughing,
mass of contradictions,
an intellectual,
a man of tender heart,
a man who was well loved,
in life,
and,
continues to be,
after his death.
He was very tough,
and,
could cry at the,
drop of a hat.
He knew his own,
mind,
his own heart,
and,
understood his many,
appetites.

There isn't a day,
I don't wish,
we could talk,
drink coffee,
have dinner,
walk and laugh,
shoot the shit,
fix the world.
Giving up smoking,
was easier,
because,
after all,
who can you really,
smoke with,
nowadays?

This morning,
I watched a John Waters,
interview,
about Cy Twombly,
and,
contemporary art,
and,

smiled,
Francoys loved,
Waters.

I miss you my friend,
rest in peace

Be well you all,
Later girls,
BB

Author: Bookish Butch

I am a bookish butch in my mid early fifties. I live in Montréal and always have. I used to run a small used bookstore. Reading keeps me sane. My latest jiggie is photography, book project in the works, living the dream View all posts by Bookish Butch