What can I say about my friend?
He was a joy, a pain, a most
giving heart, fervent brain. Truth
be told he was, in the end,
more or less what we wanted, host
to our worries and challenges, cooth
or raucous when we wanted, mend
for our slaughtered fences. He’d joust
for the sake of argument, be smooth
or curse worse than a Yankee fan. Friend
to the outcasts. Hyperbolator. He’d boast
of deeds done and imagined. He too,
in the end, could say little provably honest,
so in his stead, I shall say nothing modest.