Another Friend

Here’s my rough draft for today, Thursday 01.20.22

Another Friend

He was a ball hog.

You should have seen him on the court.

It was as if he were playing by himself.

We would just sort of loiter around him

and watch him destroy the opposition.

I envied him being able to dribble with both hands,

something I could never do no matter how much I practiced.

It was like backing up Gordon Lightfoot.

You were backing up Gordon Lightfoot.

You weren’t going to be doing any extended drum solos,

or elaborate bass riffs that stole the spotlight.

He could shoot the three, though, I’ll give him that,

if we’d had the three-point shot back then.

Coincidentally, he was an excellent guitar player, like Lightfoot.

I could listen to him play classical music all night long.

He was a scratch golfer, too.

I played many a round with him when we were at UH,

and no matter how many strokes he’d give me –

so many it would get ridiculous – I’d end up buying the beers.

Aside from that, he was quite humble, soft-spoken.

I’ve never seen him accept criticism of his work with anything but grace.

As long as it was constructive, justifiable.

Heaven help you if you were only going to dump.

He had a quick wit, could cut you like some Oscar Wilde.

A great memory, too.

He would have made a good actor, all those scripts.

If I had to guess, I’d say he had a photographic memory.

Would drink whatever you poured.

Smoked cigars, expensive ones, when he was drunk.

Hated to eat anything green.

Despised pineapple on his pizza.

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