Alan Catlin

Zendeath in the Washington Tavern

Having him around,

while otherwise alone

in the bar, three hours

past midnight, was like

living my own Zendeath

poem. Any minute I

expected him to punch in

his favorite Golden Oldies

on the retro juke for mood

music: All Those People

Who Died by Jim Boy Carroll,

Talking Heads, Burning Down

the House, This Wheel's On

Fire by Bobby D and The Band---

I thought about asking him

where he'd found my numbers

for The Koresh Chorus:all

those songs with Fire in

the title, played once a year

on the anniversary of Waco,

but decided he wouldn't get

it, that he was more interested

in hitting the head to use his

gear before a fatal crash.

I could see he was cruising

for the Land of Nod, his wasted,

emaciated frame, way too

old for how many years he'd

spent in decaying orbits around

earth, a hot wired Jim Carroll

Creature on the last laps

of a mechanical dream, his black

tickets punched, as he reached

for a stage microphone that would

never be there to sing along

with The Catholic Boy,

"It's too late, to fall in love

with Sharon Tate-----"