Punching boredom in the gut
You told me I should call an album Breakless
Or was it Unbreakable?
Or was it Brake Less?
No, it was Breakless.
I used that word/non-word
(is it even a word?)
And you said, “You should call an album that,
a rock and roll album.”
"Joe Arthur Breakless, how tough is that?"
I asked Jenni,
“Do you like this?”
She right away did not
but I did.
It came from you
and it’s weird, odd, tough, punk, detached, wrong, right, irreverent, reverent, silly and serious just like you.
Joe Arthur Breakless
Not Joseph? I wanted to ask but didn’t.
You always called me Joe,
which I liked.
It was as if you always wanted the essence of things
without the fluff.
Why be a Joseph when you can be a Joe?
And like a moon orbiting a planet, it was hard not to always just agree with you.
When I asked you for a band name,
you suggested Cooz
without missing a beat.
The best and worst band name ever.
I ran it by a few folks who were almost always horrified by it.
I never said it came from you
and it always made me smile,
your audacity in everything you did.
A real Cooz.
I had never even heard that word before.
I had to look it up.
Another word down to the essence.
I asked you one time
what you thought of so and so’s book.
(it was a book everyone loved)
“Between you and me?” you asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“I don’t like it much.
Too much fluff,
too much poetry speak.”
For you poetry was simple, tough language,
not a series of adjectives describing a bridge going into worlds unknown,
but rather a breakless cooz
punching boredom in the gut.