Why So Suddenly?

Dear Joey,

Why so suddenly?
I hadn't seen you for ten years...
you were close,
back in those times,
just across the orchard
and a stretch of field,
through early springtime
sourgrass stretching high,
or through laden late-summer
fruit trees bending low.
You had golden brown hair
and a smile for every season...
as many troubles as the rest of us,
but you'd put them away when
the time was for being together
over a bottle of beaujolais and a song...

Ten rambling california years
before we'd meet again.
And now, just a summer later,
they tell me I'll never
see your face again.

Why so suddenly?
I remember you, taking us
for top-down rides to big sur,
with joplin pouring out
of the dashboard radio,
and sand dunes and
cypress trees blurring by...
you'd be spinning
an east coast story
as you aimed along
the dotted yellow,
and we'd be leaning forward
from the back seat,
sifting your wind-swept words
from the radio static
and the whine of wheels...
I remember you,
curving us our way
to the mexican coast
over rutty roads,
past faded mexican walls
with sun-burned tiles.

It was so good, after so long,
to see you once again.
Now, you've taken
the one-way ride...
the long one.
Maybe there's a plan...
but Joey, why so suddenly?


Rus Brutsche (August 1982)