I am writing this to you,
my friend, my lover,
betrayer and the betrayed
I thought I owed this to you
and you thought you owed me nothing
I am writing this to you now
because we watched blackbirds together
and raided the hovels where the monkey raisers snored
slanted our steps into an elderly traffic policeman
and hovered over dusty bazaars
Yes, I am writing this to you
because asthma is still with you
when you couldn’t play the harmonica
when little things meant the world
and the world was in the little things
I am writing to you because you knew my city
through places and people
and I knew it by energy
but that doesn’t make it big
I am writing to you
because I was forced to make
a man out of you
and I am glad that I did better –
you have seen the world now
that is why I write to you
I am glad you still wear black
and have a raven tattoo
for what I don’t understand
and I am glad
that I have a poem for you
and you have excuses for me
I am happy to see you famous
I have seen you work and sweat
You’ve done it and deserved it
except you took my name
I am writing to you
because I’m not famous
because I have an infamous pride
do not give odes to me
I am no tolerated memory,
or a faded muse
I think your photos are great
they are dark, they are staged
and they are ugly
ugly enough to be disturbing
ugly enough to be seen
I know it takes courage
to go out into the night
to probe into the lives
and to break down divides
but I am glad today I wasn’t there
when this came about
I am now a writer
for the ugly and the out
not the same like you
I do not put in such work
I am lazy and nowhere as talented
I may not see the world
am stuck in my little house
And yet you took my name
And called me a faint muse
I will not take it, Mister Cash
San Quentin had no rules
So Goodbye and Fare Thee Well
I may stalk you as you put it
while you see the world
through your honest
black and white lens
Rusty Truck 