New Poem-for Anthony Bourdain

Everybody has an itch they can't scratch.
Can't find the spark for the match.
We try to fill it up with addiction.
But there is no cure for our affliction.

There is one deep ache
That we cannot shake.
It's not enough to be loved.
Deep down we want to be understood.

And our question is not supposed to have an answer.
And our quest is a kind of cancer.
Because it is a parasite that also gives us light.
We all want our future to be bright.

We are like Sisyphus pushing a rock up the mountain.
At the peak of success, that rock falls steeply.
It is not for us to know why God makes it so.
We are but a drop in his fountain.

 For Amy

She loved the band Ride
But alcohol was her bride.
She was genuine and real
Our past was sadly sealed.

Thirty something summers old.
Her story barely told.
She was a good friend.
But our story did not unfold.

It all fell down like a house of cards.
Her whole damn world in shards.
She left behind her spouse.
The earthly world was not her house.