Holmgren

Holmgren

He was dating my gal's

roommate for awhile,

so we were all blessed

by Eric's unique frenzy,

riffs on just about any

thing Tidewater-based,

rapped up in humidity,

and that bright green

hell of omnipresent July.

One day he was telling

me he and his pals got

into a little Plymouth

and drove the wrong

way down the Colonial

Parkway, uncaringly,

as though that day'd be

come Destruction Derby

day at the dirt track.

The roommate and Eric

fell out over her ecstasy

for him and for Beirut,

both being burnt inside

out by manic souls. "Evil's

destroying my beauties,"

she sobbed. He just stared.

Later Eric gave me his

copy of A Feast of Snakes.

He thought it the funniest

novel he'd ever read.

[narrative]