Goodbye to Tiger Taylor & his tattooed muscles
Guarding the door ;
Goodbye to your sweet under-aged self
In flight down the fire escape;
Goodbye to Heavenly Bodies,
& Chris Knox’s toothy snarl;
Goodbye to those fresh faces & the boy
With the purple guitar,
Goodbye to the worldliness of those old faces on the bar
Who were not so old or worldly;
Goodbye to the guy in leather calling out at midnight
For an Iggy Pop song,
Goodbye to the mindless head-butts,
The cut arms, and the smashed-glass faces.
Goodbye to the Tuesday Morning Pool Players
& the poet rolling one between shots.
Goodbye to those who never made the last round
Who saw afternoon light brilliant in a jug,
Goodbye to the wild electricity of youth
& our beginning hearts.