Johnny Cash Money

"Where's my poem honey?
Ode to Mike and not to Nick?"
Your old Johnny Cash Money?
The wound's too fresh to lick.

But Johnny, he were funny.
And he played a mean guitar.
Couldn't strum a note in fact.
His tunes were quite bizarre.

He's standing on the table
Doin' Jagger's melody
Still up for those who able
To imbibe at Geraldine's

He partied like he's twenty
But his age was twice and ten.
His vices they were plenty
As the venues in East End.

His coat, he had a leather
Which he took to take a stride
Over shoulder-- what the weather
Or for colder times-- inside.

It fit the mood, it made a groove
He jangled as he walked.
Cowboy booted hero in the city
Was the talk.

Gentle touch, a gentle voice
Never waivered with his friends.
And after some tequilla
There'd be gentle touchin' then.

In every way he was a gentleman.
"Every?!! Now Norma--
Lost me and your memory
Don't pretend."

I Know I may be dead now
Let's not gloss over facts.
Ya'll weren't just my stage-wife
When the band laid down them tracks.

Don't serenade with organ music
Of "He was so nice."
If you recall a thing or two
You know I had my vice.

Vodka Blondie had the task
Of fillin' me with time.
Listened as we'd share a glass--
Lips of starry moonshine.

Liquored up with ladies
Lonesome Cowboy guns and gals.
What is in that cocktail?
Pour another for me pal.

Don't reckon it's a mixture.
It too dark in here to tell.
Lighter? Read the label.
It a Hundred Proof Mescal.

With Old Franky, he would tip the bottle through.
Skankin' down the midnight avenue.

Chat-joke up on his balcony
This net ain't for the birds.
It's too high up for tennis balls.
And then the bigger word.

I reckon it's got uses
When my mind is not at ease
It's to contain my suicide
For days I'm on my knees.

I put the smokin' jokin' to the side.
And gave some frank advice 'case he don't lie.
I'm tired of makin' friends and then they die.
The sadness is a hassle--make me cry.

I've had friends---moved away.
I prefer for you to stay.
Don't tell me you'll be jumpin' off this ledge.
Can't add you to this list. You ain't a guest.

His knick-knacks needed dustin'
Then we tidied up some beers.
And what about this light bulb?
Let's put up some chandeliers.

His apartment had a view.
The kind of view you don't look down.
Some twenty stories up
One day he flew to hit the town.

The last time I saw you,
Knew I couldn't pull you back,
Eyes a glaze of sunken worry
Blanking out the chat.

And so Nick, hope you're happy
With this slidin' rhyme to thee
In case you think it's hokey,
Just come back and hit delete.