I have a tattoo
on my arm
to remind me of that
November we spent
drinking in the
Reeperbahn.
We'd decided to just
up and leave
it all behind,
the woman,
the jobs,
the debts,
the problems
and head to a place
where we could die
in peace.
Surrounded by the wicked
and the damned
we made that little bar
our home.
We drank with the
midget's from the local Circus,
we fought with the Sailor's
who fell in on shore-leave,
we slept with the waitresses
who couldn't speak a word
of English
and they let us run wild
until the money ran out.
And the last thing we did
before we took that ferry
back
was to get
a permanant reminder
inked into our skin.
Something to say that
we always knew
that we could escape.
And on day's like this,
when I wonder if
there's anyway
I can carry on
putting one foot in front
of the other
I catch a glimpse
of my arm
in the bathroom mirror
and remember that
there is a place for me
in this World.
In a booth,
in the bottom of a glass,
with you
my brother.
I still miss you man.
In memory of Jake Powell 1967-1998.
Neil Gray
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-memory-of-brother-jake/
