his story

Argent is driving the Poetry Bus this week, and the challenge is to write about skeletons in the family closet. I've been trying unsuccessfully to write about my larger-than-life uncle since he died in October, but I was approaching it from my emotions. For the bus, I decided simply to tell his story.

You can find family stories of the Bus driver and other passengers here.





his story

a young boy, a sad one,

abandoned, alone,

a soldier, a looker,

a lover when grown,

a talker, a salesman,

the jetset, the cash,

the women, the takers,

the booze and the hash,

the horses, the races,

the Caddy, the oil,

the money he made

gushing out of the soil,

rich men and leaders

to take every call

the higher you rise,

the harder you fall;

five wives and five children

one buried, then four

abandoned by him

just as he was before;

the lying, the losses

the excess, the waste,

the bridges he burned

all collapsing in haste;

unforgiven, abandoned,

his end like his start;

but sift through the ash,

there's a boy’s broken heart