UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY

PHIL KEELING

Good Luck Darryl

On the last day of school,
Darryl,
when you looked at me with
the same cocky grin you've worn
for the past one-hundred and eighty days
and told me
"Ain't no one gonna miss you,"
(even though I hadn't asked)
my response was that
the feelings were mutual.

Forgive me, Darryl-
Student mine-
I'm afraid I've left you wronged-
because what I meant to say was
"Good luck".

Hope the job market isn't as
dusty and threadbare for you
as it was for me (for us).
Hope you don't get shot
like your classmate did
in February.

(Do they make greeting cards
for moments like this?)

Hope you don't get shipped
to the desert
and take up residence there
(they don't let you drink there, Darryl,
and I've heard you bragging
to your friends).

Oh, and I hope your friends
stick to you
like shit to a shoe
and don't abandon ship
when you most need them.

I hope the world starts
moving backwards, student mine.
I hope life is kind.

Good luck, Darryl.
Good luck.









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