Poem: To a boy

brilliant, beautiful, sexy as hell,
someone with promise;
said he got so drunk once
that he thought he was God;
maybe he was
and maybe he wasn't
(I'll never know).

But the poetry he wrote
sounded like the Torah
or the Bible--
something to believe in.
Through its chancred grit,
it all made glorious sense.

Truth, like poets, cannot
live the unexamined life,
nor can either die the
ordinary death.

Maybe he was God;
maybe he was right.