All My Friends are Dead


1. All My Friends are Dead

I get inappropriate rhyme-texts from Baudelaire while he’s high on opiates

And Ginsberg gets me metaphysical weed

O’Hara gives it to me straight, which I thank him for    

Proust comes with Madeleines and helps me remember

Steinbeck payed a visit with Charlie and we got drunk over scrap papers

Hemingway knocked simply on the door with a fishing pole but I only stuck my head out the door, told                  him just because the whole block likes him, doesn’t mean I have too

Camus sent me a letter to tell me what I am doing means jack-shit

And Shakespeare talked my ear off for an hour, before I shut him out

Dumas swashbuckled over and stayed a while getting frivolously obese on my chair reading his own                       books

Che came by on La Poderosa and planned an invasion of Cuba

Salinger…I never heard from him not once but I’m sure he thought of me briefly

Jesus…all my friends are dead

But live indefinitely on my shelves

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