I saw my new friend Steve G,
who was–just months ago–so strong, stable and sturdy
accept his dear friend dave’s hand
with the uncertainty of a regal man, who is elderly…

…as they headed toward the Bayou

“Help me to the other side, ’cause I’m not sure I can make it,”
the silent communication, between these loving, long-time, buddies…

I saw my friend Steve G,
a dynamic symbol of this region’s recovery,
refusing to stand on ceremony,
a gifted man, guided by an endearing, genuine, humility
basking in the loving embrace of the Big Easy
empowered by the grace, of those who keep him company…

daily, he’s growing weaker from life’s not so random, injustice
but rejecting his fate like a fierce fighter
refusing to go down gently,
or surrender his palpable dignity…
he is sucking life’s marrow vigorously and smelling roses, daily…

I saw my friend Steve G,
sitting across the couch from me,
more adopted son, than in-law, to this beautiful Italian family
to my left, the love of his life, who makes everything right, Michel
both hands framed her barely showing, tan belly–
shining light on their growing baby…
their communication filled with boldness and brilliant subtlety
that’s on display for the world to see…
But through the smiles, hugs and good times
lay the under layer of restrained public tears
and a merciless layer of transcendent melancholy…

The haunting question filling my dear, sweet friend, Steve G?

“Will my child, not only remember, but more importantly,
will he or she, be able to truly feel, the essence of me?”

I saw my friend Steve G,
an adopted Prince, in a persevering city
who could barely glide a block without people
offering a wink and a smile, but never pity…
smiling broad and soaking it ALL–at the Jazz Fest Triathlon–in
as three locals got down to the serious business–
of speed f***ing, a sacrificial watermelon…

“Heyyyyyyyy Bob,” Steve and his unique lady love, Michel G, formerly V,  chanted to a neighbor every day as they passed, gingerly,  not caring if Bob could hear or not, the essence of New Orleans, so evident and unexplainable, unless you court it…

I saw my dear, sweet friend, Steve G,
at the airport in the car, stoic
but a few feet away from me,
struggling with life’s realities, with a stiff upper lip
he’s been able to let loose to a degree…
but I could see in his eyes what his mouth wouldn’t let free…

“I got plans for a better world and exotic places to hit and flee
I got diapers to change, advice to give and people who need me
I got a trail to blaze, bridges to build, an inherent need, to just BE
I got internal conflict to resolve and an untamed heart to keep free…”

I got…

“I gotta go,” I said reluctantly

We sat silent for a beat, before a powerful hug, as I took my leave…

“I love you,” came to him and then to me, freely…

…but the one thing I still haven’t heard from my soulful, sweet and humble friend, Steve G?

“Can someone please explain why all this crazy shit isn’t happening
to someone like you, instead of someone like ME?”

I guess that’s the difference between me and my friend, Steve G…

He has more poise and courage under fire, than you or me.

(May, 2011) (C) Sean Pamphilon

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