Bobby's been coming around alot these days.
He'd never let something like death keep him from doing whatever he wanted to do. Nothing stopped him in life, why should death be any different?
It's mostly in my dreams when he comes to me, that's when we talk like we
(more) used to, but he's never very far from me.
We're linked.
~
There was always a party somewhere in town and Bobby's band was usually playing, back when garage bands were literally bands playing in someone's garage.
One Saturday there was this all-day party over at Mark's house right on the edge of Majors Pond. The place was packed with punks and Bobby was the self-proclaimed King of President Park. I was his Queen, a far cry from the painfully shy little girl I'd been most of my life.
To pay homage and fealty, the usual offering came in the form of drugs and there was nothing that Bobby said 'no' to.
~
"Babe, c'mon," he said to me as I willingly followed him to the bathroom.
I was petrified. Smoking pot was one thing, shooting dope was a whole 'nother level I wasn't ready for, yet I found myself with my arm outstretched, needle poised to pierce my flesh. My eyes were wildly darting anywhere but my arm and Bobby caught my gaze, seeing the fear I tried desperately to hide.
"No,"Bobby said as he pulled the needle away."You really wanna do this?"
I said nothing.
Bobby leaned down and kissed me, his hand cupping my face as he whispered in my ear that he loved me then told me to go grab a beer.
~
One of the letters Bobby sent me from jail contained the lyrics to the song,"Wear It Well".He said the song reminded him of me.(less)
