GOOD RIDE
A
I had been injured
burned, seared, broken, to no end
By one who,
with a veil for a smile, called himself my friend
So, having accepted
the blows of his vain words with no visible effects
I began to weave
my plan for revenge and his eminent decent
B
I knew of one particular passionate weakness,
a pining for the sleekness of a well formed board
And it was to that I called, when we met at the sea
just before the last of the sun’s rays were poured
A
Having indulged greatly
in the local spirit of the fair
his gate was clumsy,
and I steadied him on the stair
“not much further, bro”
I quaintly reassured.
As the hollow blackness of the rock
gave way to the pounding surf
And then,
we came upon the shore
and lying
side by side – two boards
B
“just enough time for one last paddle.” he grumbled
Then stumbled towards the oval shapes
proceeding without hesitation
to splash beneath a generous wave
Ah but I – I moved slowly on the beach
into a greedy smile my mouth curled
and while the wave exploded
our friend’s board did pearl
In his stupor or trust,
I replaced the wax with super glue
then weighted the board with lead
and filled it full of holds
it began to take on water
and he struggled
his head poked
just above the black reef,
I could see the board had begun to seep
yes – creep into the darkness of the deep
“Ha, ha!” He cried.
“A good joke! Now set me free!”
but I just stood
and watched the sea
and soon between the splashing there was no more laughing
but only a few small cries
and as the black rose and I could only see
the flashing of his eyes
to which I raised my thumb and pinkie in the air –
“Good ride,” said I. “Good ride.”
