Poetry by Michael Thomas Ellis

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With A Little Help From My Friends

His hair was unruly a mass of black corkscrews
that he never knew what to do with.
His nickname was Frizz. You can guess why.
They all laughed about it 
in that semi-cruel way that some friends have
of showing how much they care.
He laughed along with them. Kind of.
It was a different story at lights out.

They always hung out in the far corner of the quad
where the rainwater would pool
slick and bruised oily.
Where he once fell off the retaining wall
after leaning out too far 
to better catch her walking by.
Busted his kneecap which made him cry
in front of God and everyone. And her.

The lawn was where he really wanted to sit
that tightly cut Promised Land 
of Friday night party invitations
double dates and impossible expectations.
Where the hair was all smooth and straight
and the conversations even smoother.
Where shoulders seemed to turn away
and no one spoke when he was within earshot.

Which he usually wasn’t. Seemed like he never was. 
Or maybe the words he did hear just never faded.

He readjusted his ratty old CAT cap 
the Arizona sun raised hell with his bald spot 
swung his stiff leg out and up into the cab.
That knee had never gotten much better.
He looked at his phone
set it down beside him.
No notifications.
It had been hours since his last post
but that wasn’t unusual.
He fired up his rig shifted it into gear
slowly headed out to the interstate.
Thumbed his iPod to life.
He had always loved the Beatles.
They were the best.

            Boy you’re going to carry that weight
            Carry that weight – a long time.
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The author was born in Portland, ME, grew up in Silicon Valley before it was, spent most of his adult life in incomparable Santa Barbara and Ojai, CA, endured 10 years of northern MN, and is now retired to the west coast of FL. He has been published in The Talking Stick, Open Arts Forum, New Verse News, Waymark, Tuck Magazine, Dark Sire, the anthology Moving Pictures and his favorite daily breakfast treat, The Drabble.

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