Jaysong

Robert thought it was a letter…

Jaysong Yes, it was a prayer…

Jaysong

Guy named Jay

Crackle guy

Give you grief for

Oh, being young old 

Not from his county

Wife named Sue

Crackle girl 

Give you grief for

No particular reason,

Doesn’t keep her bargains

But always kens the seasons

Girl named Anna

Streamy girl

Took photos at Longwood

Red particular flowers

Smartest of the brood.

Jay is on the left, quivering 

Robert thought it was a letter…

Jaysong Yes, it was a prayer…

Jaysong

Guy named Jay

Crackle guy

Give you grief for

Oh, being young old 

Not from his county

Wife named Sue

Crackle girl 

Give you grief for

No particular reason,

Doesn’t keep her bargains

But always kens the seasons

Girl named Anna

Streamy girl

Took photos at Longwood

Red particular flowers

Smartest of the brood.

Jay is on the left, quivering 

Jay is on the right, hovering,

He is maybe listening, knowing 

Anna’s the story to write:

Guy named Robert

Lost his knees but not his way

Did not earn the life of Jay

Daughters, labor, current strife

Or at any point the pain-free life.”

And now we jettison the rhymes and poetry…

We did it, Jay, we ran the bikes all the way to the Delaware Bay Shore

Remember how the salt smell came and went

Through the bleak we saw so so flat

I had the bigger bike that day

But you didn’t care about that.

What we sawWhat we saw

What we saw

Seagulls swooping singing, rocks and waves and no one there-ing.

Salt smell. Sand. Throttle up. We rode two monsters home.

That day was just you and me

You saw an ocean you hadn’t known

Private lovely bay shore wild

And we rode and rode down upward

To the mighty Delaware

The lovely edge of where

I owe you a Harley. It is yours.

I just want you back to that old

Hale hearty husband role

No excuses, 1200cc cooold.

Sportster boy, fairly old.

Brothers. All we ever were. Me 10 years older and colder. You, ten years younger and wanting my Harley. Who was colder? 

I don’t care. You can have it if you get off that awful, sterile, godawful bed and go home to Sue and Anna.

Yours,

R Jay is on the right, hovering,

He is maybe listening, knowing 

Anna’s the story to write:

Guy named Robert

Lost his knees but not his way

Did not earn the life of Jay

Daughters, labor, current strife

Or at any point the pain-free life.”

And now we jettison the rhymes and poetry…

We did it, Jay, we ran the bikes all the way to the Delaware Bay Shore

Remember how the salt smell came and went

Through the bleak we saw so so flat

I had the bigger bike that day

But you didn’t care about that.

What we saw

What we saw

What we saw

Seagulls swooping singing, rocks and waves and no one there-ing.

Salt smell. Sand. Throttle up. We rode two monsters home.

That day was just you and me

You saw an ocean you hadn’t known

Private lovely bay shore wild

And we rode and rode down upward

To the mighty Delaware

The lovely edge of where

I owe you a Harley. It is yours.

I just want you back to that old

Hale hearty husband role

No excuses, 1200cc cooold.

Sportster boy, fairly old.

Brothers. All we ever were. Me 10 years older and colder. You, ten years younger and wanting my Harley. Who was colder? 

I don’t care. You can have it if you get off that awful, sterile, godawful bed and go home to Sue and Anna.

Yours,

R