For Tish, Upon her Passing

A POEM FOR TISH, UPON HER PASSING

Tishona Mari,

A lady

Both smart and pretty,

Whose pearly whites

Never knew a cavity.

She could have been mayor of Schenectady,

An obvious daughter of royalty;

instead, she settled for

Leader of the bitch committee.

Together we prowled all night

under gracious stars

that blazed hot white

Our Lies and alibis airtight.

We owned the city, you and me.

We were wild and we were free.

I a banshee, you black bourgeoisie

Our names destined

for Proctor’s marquee.

I loved you

And you loved me,

Even when I

stole the liberty

To tease you relentlessly.

And You just smirked quietly.

A savior you could be

You gave CPR to an overdosee

While You waited for an EMT;

Saved her life selflessly.

We were champions

Of love and stupidity

Our friendship a

Flawed sorority

Trucker stayed for an eternity

Chickenpeck died in a tree

Maryann and Civvi:

Reliable Gangsters

In a counterinsurgency.

But then came June 2023

Just before your 53rd birthday.

And what unfolded so stealthily

A Shakespearean tragedy

Victim you fell, silently.

Betrayed by your own congeniality.

You escaped your mortal anatomy,

Soon to decay like the cigarette

You Left burning

in the ashtray

Tishona mari died today.

My only solace,

A lonely poem for every yesterday.

Off she's gone

to the great jubilee

May your daily numbers

Always hit the lottery.

Hush now friends and family

Seneca stands quiet and empty

Let's bend on sullen knee

never shall we forget thee.