TALES FROM THE BONUS ROUND: Portland Oregon 1996

First time a big ocean liner

Sailed up the Wilhammette and docked
In Portland Oregon

They lifted the bridge

Helicopters flew over

Flood lights

Afternoon and evening tv news

On board that ship was a dying man
Taking the last cruise of his life
A cruise to Alaska

He had already celebrated the “last birthday” of his life

The previous October

This was now May

He was also desperate to not die
So he made a decision that he would fight

The diarrhea that was draining the life from his

stick thin body

He drank a narcotic syrup to slow down his system
Anti-diarrhea pills on top of that

And he raided every food buffet possible

Even if he could just gain a pound

He a Stephen King character
A ghoul face poking from inside a hoodie

The image you avert your eyes away from

Wasting away
A barely-walking skeleton

He had already held off his death
For the past year
By writing and singing music
Of brutal honesty

Rage, courage, and hope

Written with nothing left to lose

It had worked

The music had had measurable effects
So, he had come back from the brink before

Now, he needed to play the songs for someone
He needed them to be heard

They had had such a magical effect on him
He thought someone else might need them
Maybe they could also heal the world!

But nobody knew him
He was not famous

As he pulled into Portland

He remembered that it was supposed to be a hipster town
There was a singer/songwriter vibe
If he could just find someone

To listen to his songs
Maybe an open mic

After the entry into Portland

With the news copters overhead

Boats saluting with sprays of water

The ship docked downtown
Right at the end of a
Small maze of streets

With bars

He went looking for something

The Ghoul was frail

He walked the narrow, cobbled streets

He said, “I am going to find someone

Who will let me sing”

But it was locked up tight
Bars aren’t open at 10 AM

Then a sign
A blackboard on the street
“Open mic. 9pm”

That won’t work

The ship will have left by 9 pm

The door was propped open. Lights off.

Black interior. The harsh sunlight from the doorway lit

Two guys sitting around

Holding guitars

On break from
Cleaning the floors

Chairs piled in the corner

They’re friendly

“I have these songs.” says Skeletor.

“What do you play?” they ask.

“Piano.”

“No piano here, man.”

“I can sing a cappella.”

Skeletor won’t let them out of this

They listen.

Singing: “I heard of a group
With someone like me
Who felt the way I feel...”

Two weeks later, after the cruise,

After all the buffets, the medicine
Enough calories to feed a small nation
He hit the scales

Lost: Another pound.

That’s when he knew it really was over.

It scared him, but he accepted it.

And when he accepted it
An unexpected comfort and peace
Came over him.