Simon and Who?

My auld man is not well
He has has seen better days with his body as well as his wits so I keep him comfortable and chat with him over tea when he is in the mood
the other day my uncle G was brought up at random and my Dad confuses me with him sometimes which is fine since he was a very handsome but a hard subject since he was murdered very young,before 30 and under radical dealings.
He spoke of how my uncle was rather popular or in my language,knew the bars well
The story the auld man told is how in all the pubs G frequented he would scrawl random poetry or songs left on the walls of the bathroom stalls
the bar stools and booth tables where other people would add their own words,other drinkers would continue more original works to his
or to which tune was in his head at the moment
I laughed and realized the resemblance and connection that my father’s brain was adding up since he has be sick
it was not in my looks but in my bad habits (and long list of vandalism charges) that I had with a man that I never met but with politics and DNA
we were linked
I tried to pick and pull some of the places from Dad’s fogged brain some of the ones in Chelsea and the West Side that still may be on this planet
a couple I used to sneak into as a younger bastard,some dead from quick gentrification and some done over into crap clubs
The hope of seeing something of it was far fetched but cities everywhere have faceless hero storytellers,the words of primal urge to tell the tale of
HEY WE WERE FUCKING HERE
Poetry of a buffalo hunt
Candy Apple Red and White softball fill ins on a rooftop
ACDC carved into a bench in Ohio
a crown with SAMO under it
Being 15 cuffed in a cell when the detective asked me,”What does the words of the prophets are written are the subway walls mean?”
I’m still finding the answers

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