Born a Leo,
Cancer was his
rotting sign.

Build of a lumberjack,
soul of a sailor,
brains of a bolshevik,
dreams of a savior;
crucified by coronaries,
tormented by tumors.

Tobacco-stained smiles.
A snarling slap
during drunken interludes.
Bear hugs across
the funny papers
on Sunday morning.
Standing in the
luminous hospital hallway
I saw him begin to crumble,
but never saw him
fall.