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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Georgie His was a pudgy boyish countenance, With rounded river eyes and an Alfalfa smile. He wheezed like a sick tern with repeated asthma attacks, Playing hard at the various outdoor games and chases, Of our fleeting childhood years in the inhaling sun. He perspired profusely in 1964 as he sat with beads of sweat which Gathered like a water pox above his lips, all in a wheezing row. Bespectacled Georgie was the curlicued, black-haired boy who lived two houses up from ours; the one with the green hedge. He wore converse sneakers, a white tee and blue denim, with Thick black-framed glasses astride his chubby white face. His was a temper not sought by anyone, including Elsie his mother. Georgie was her little boy, but when angered, baseball bats went flying. Curse words were screamed loudly with one’s birth name questioned intensely. Stones and large rocks were heaved at innocent windows and nearby statuary. Baseballs were hurled at the heads of other little boys, with misses near and far. Toy darts were skipped across baking sidewalks to the bare feet of his playmates, Producing more loud voices shrieking in pain when the darts impaled their feet. Oranges and lemons were rabidly picked for the purpose of pummeling one’s nose; But gentle mother Elsie loved her little Georgie, and his little blue inhaler. Years and decades sailed by like lost boats in a starless harbor. Little Georgie grew into a pudgy man with nothing changed except, the drugs. Marijuana odors hovered like invisible swarms of masticating locusts, Lurking above the silent brick houses of our street, with old Georgie lighting up. With a pipe and a baggie in his pocket, my old friend gave up on his life. He decided not to work, but to take aimless walks down deserted avenues; Day after empty day he took his drifting strolls into a personal oblivion. We subsequently lost contact in the ensuing decades, and I forgot about him. Until recently… I found out… Georgie’s funeral took place 25 years ago at Rose Hills Cemetery. Rest in piece old friend, old tormentor, with your little blue inhaler.
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