joey

I see my friend Joey
on the street, he's a mysterious
kind of guy.
always in black, glum
is the word that best describes him.
hello darkness,
my old friend, I say to him.
hey, he says,
pulling his long black coat
up to his chin.
what's up, I say.
nothing, he says. same old.
i'm going through some stuff right
now.
I nod.
woman? work? what is it.
my mother, he says, and yes.
a woman and work too.
he shows me his left hand, there's
a band of gold on his finger.
you didn't, I say.
yup, he says. vegas one night.
I can see the bags under his eyes.
he's slouching more than usual.
he's lenny bruce in the rain.
he's dragging like
he's got a cinder block tied
to his ankle.
it'll be okay, I tell him, putting
my hand on his shoulder.
you'll see.
I don't know he says.
i'm tempted to jump off the Brooklyn
bridge.
I ignore that and think about how
cold the east river would be this
time of the year.
grab lunch, I ask him. nah,
he says.
I've got an appointment with
my lawyer,
then I need to see a guy about
having a tattoo removed.
okay, okay, I tell him. maybe
another day.