when he died he left no will
& his overgrown kids fought over
his motorcycles
the little bit of gold he had
rings chains with pendants
began using lawyers to spite each other
who of course gobbled up
any value there was there
& going to his funeral
I dragged out the new colors he’d given me
when I finally became a member of the MC
I’d kept those for best
preferring the battle scars of my old cut
gained in prospecting on my back
& this was that special occasion
my brother gone
to the big clubhouse in the sky
& there in the pocket
unfound until now
a chain for me
just a little bit of gold
to remember him by
& you can be sure I did not tell his kids
about that
RIP Flomp
