The above photograph is a letter that I received years ago(1983, to be exact) when I enjoyed the hobby of pen-pals, letter-writing, which today is now unheard of. It was this letter from a young boy, fifteen-years old who was terminally ill, suffering from an inoperable brain tumor…I have kept it all these years and I re-read it every now and again just to keep my head on straight because he didn’t get the chance to live like I did and I remember his kindness to take the time to write out a letter to a young woman who learned to love across the lines of a letter from a dying fifteen-year old soul.
Pandora’s Box Blues Chaser
Old buckets of engine grease,
mouse droppings, shredded books
are swept up and tossed away
along with seven years rough roads
and some of the most turbulent seas
of small business woes
boxed, packed away amongst
dishes, books, coffee cups
with sincere hopes of
pandora’s box of shitty luck
be gone! no more!
next time you come knockin
peekin round our doors
there will be a deaf ear turned
almost guaranteed to your
all too familiar rappin and tappin
of bad luck blues
upon our door.
“The earth laughs in flowers.”—Ralph Waldo Emerson
“From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity”