My friend lay alone with violin
pressed against his lifeless chest.
Folks gathered saying the things
people say to the dead.
Doesn’t he look nice,
he’s in a better place,
whose idea the violin, nice touch.
I’ve known him for so many years.
I would’ve liked to seen
that burled oak fiddle pressed against his chin
playing “Amazing Grace” or some lonesome
Neil Young or Willie Nelson.
I’d preferred to see his crooked smile
laughing at his sour B flat.
I know him.
Instead of a funeral dirge
Alison Krauss would make us all sing.
Dolly Parton might have made him
rise from the casket to do the jitterbug.
Oh hell, even Susan Tedschi and the Truckee Band
could have rock those stiffs staring up to heaven.
That aint for me
I’m thinking I’ll find John and George
chilling at some eternal beach
Gin and Tonic for me,
Brandy for the boys
with their best friend Maggie McGee.