Marcus Kadavy

I was worried I'd lose my poem, so I copied my journal entry to this page. There was a boy my age who came up to me and asked me if I had a light. I skipped out on my mom to sit in the parking lot, thinking if I had just done what she told me to, I never woule've met Marcus Kadavy. Expiration Date, May 2000 I'm pretty sure. We only talked for an hour, about life, about peace, the meaning of existence, everything down to his smoking habit and how it was going to be the end of him. heh. I guess I was wrong. A month later, about, he was in a car crash and a year later I'm hearing his name in church, a dedication mass. I had no idea what was wrong, so I asked the closest person I'd found there. Talk about post-mature realization. A whole year had passed. All this time I thought he was alive and he wasn't. I still think about him of course, cried once or twice. He was a complete stranger and I cried for him. People ask me why I felt so strongly about this. It's as simple as adding: Someone who was supposed to be there wasn't. MARCUS AND DANIELE chipper choir vocals And guitars I thought I found myself today wandering among the dreams of yesterday, living a life that doesn’t exist among pews and dusty hymnals and incense. Wondering if I would meet you again. Or at least the guy I saw last week whose eyes were the brightest blue and hair the darkest black in which my heart would’ve been his if only he didn’t feel intimidated by my beliefs. He wasn’t here. You weren’t either. I found out you were dead, quite literally. From sixty to zero, living to dead all in the accepting arms of strangers in a church whose arms were quite cold. Mr. Right would have to take a number in my heart. Mr. Marcus Kadavy, could you please step up? Church bells couldn’t drown your voice or cynical smile. It’s not my line, but, “Gotta light?” Normally that wouldn’t have worked. We’d been similar, sharing thoughts of good will and unity in a world which had everything but Family and friends didn’t understand. He had died a year before and I didn’t get to miss him. He shouldn’t have been dead. Were you drunk? Were you high? Were you laughing with your friends? We spoke for an hour what life was how it affected our ideas and motives. You were very bright brighter than people made you out to be. The sun came and went, disappeared behind the international symbol of Christian faith. I had no faith after the day I found you’d died. What a waste of beauty within. You left without a proper goodbye. All you had to offer was an hour. Too bad you couldn’t be here, joking and smoking while I wrote on the back windshield with dusty fingers "Peace" and “Wash Me” signs. Shit that no one thought we’d write. We talked about how smoking would kill him one day. What fools, what fools. You were a black walnut shell, tough and unbreakable on the outside amazing and a sight to behold on the inside reassuring me with a puff of smoke that if I took care of my city You’d take care of yours. Like superheroes. Goodbye Mr. Marcus Kadavy. See you in church.