My brother, ghost, and child of Pan

A limping, ragged, Hillbilly man,  

Unkempt beard, unwashed clothes

Unsightly stains, and runny nose

With ankles scarred from bedbug bites

He’d wander railroad tracks by night.

They called him slow, but it wasn’t true

He knew he could run as fast as you.

What will become of Bill?

My mom would say,

If she would get old and pass away.

Well, Cancer came, and took him fast

Some things in life, they just never last.

The broken house, where once they lived

Lies silent, empty, and condemned.

His bed lies rotting in his room

Amidst cobwebs, roaches, and musky gloom

And as the ceiling begins to fall

His girly cutouts still adorn his wall

California was never in his cards

No wrestlers, surfing, or movie stars.

No motor bikes or magic rings

Or pretty girls in magazines

He believed he could do it all one day 

But only Kee Kee birds can fly away.