"Because my shadowy self" - written in March 2016

Because my shadowy self

must always be in control

I am uncomfortable

as a passenger at rest

passively being driven

south on I-75

through south Georgia, Orion

sailing along over my

right shoulder,  into northern

Florida.  The green sign at

the low concrete bridge that spans

the Suwannee River displays the

notation of the first phrase

of melody composed by

Stephen Foster, who also

penned “hard times come again no

more,” and who died alone and

destitute, fevered, his skull

busted open after he

fell and banged his fevered head

on a hard wash basin.  We

are on our way to attend

a memorial service,

ashes to ashes, by way

of fevered, late night driving

on the end of a day that has

found me still awake, somewhat

dazed of a hard twenty-one

straight hours.  Orion sails on

along, with the great hound there,

beside him over my right

shoulder.  I am comforted

by this late night company.