c. 2023 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(4-23)
How lonely the morning seems
After a night of cosmic showers and moonbeams
I woke to the news of a felled tree in my favorite woods
A diversion I once needed in this rural neighborhood
He was educated in the classics and able to manage wealth
More gifted and promising than myself
Once even an aide to RFK, I read in part
With career shifts that reflected a restless heart
A mayor, and broadcaster
A news maven, and bombast purveyor
Always the sane voice in a circus of the absurd
Finishing each episode with calm, quiet words
When my own journey had run off the rails, reeling
And a 12-pack of beer became my medicine for healing
He kept me grounded, though much was amiss
I took comfort in watching guests swing their fists
Long after midnight, numb and nodding off
I sat on my couch like a swine at the feeding trough
Glad to have my thoughts diverted with a laugh
In that time when divorce tore up the roadmap
We exchanged letters in the years that would follow
I continued to hear his wise conclusions echo
“Take care of yourself, and each other”
An admonition I received gratefully, from this video brother
The Ringmaster
Was often considered to be a televised disaster
Yet I felt an alternate vibe
Went along for the train wreck as a passenger ride
While the ratings soared
And those who took offense righteously implored
The producers to cancel
Write him off with a sharpened pencil
Like a crossed-oot entry on the corporate balance sheet
A desire not reflected on college campuses and urban streets
Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!
Quite boldly brash, and proudly contrary
Trash TV in its infancy
Perhaps with a taste of the junior Morton Downey
A car crash into bricks
With a stripper pole and heavy metal guitar licks
Transsexual revelations giving fooled feelers the fits
KKK midgets and miscreant prophets
A man marrying his horse
Jilted lovers duking out a settlement, of course
Preachers and prostitutes
Salacious habits and a flurry of lawsuits
A pretty John with high heels on
I sat up watching those VHS tapes until dawn
Drunk viewing being the best repose
Sleeping on the sofa, still in my work clothes
That is how I will remember, and remember, I will
The discipline of a rogue, satirically skilled
Was he amused by our enduring attention span?
This gentle and shy, slip of a man
Holding a hi-tech tiger by its tail
A strategy too often destined to fail
But this cheerful chum made it work
He fashioned an empire from scandalous dirt
Then sat at his desk in the dark
Smoking an expensive cigar
Thrilled enough to have entertained, and exited with grace
While other seekers sought to take his place
I will reflect on his memory, and weep
Until my bottles have run empty, and I fall asleep
Good Morrow, Master Springer
Thank you sir, for being a good tidings bringer
Rest well
Be it in Heaven or Hell
Your name still causes me to smile
We will meet again, in the afterwhile
