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"Angel from the Outfield"
Ricky didn't know criminal from crazy,
holy from lemon,
and he couldn't be taught
because that's how God made him.
He smiled a lot.
We fed and hugged him,
as he laughed
along a chant
only he understood
to the breeze
in our woods
for the fascinations of
dusts flying by.
For magnetic minutes moored beside our
cluster in the cloud of kinship years,
Ricky watched the intense unseeable
with occasional tears.
He feared nothing but the vacuum cleaner
running and hogging the vibe,
a portent we surmised of
incommunicable higher intelligence.
In his sweet pallisades of
meaty browns hunkered always nearby,
Ricky ruled and enlightened our lives.
Fly on, heart and mind.
~ ~ ~