Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Frank

I imagine sometime about 40 years ago, an odd little Indian boy, with a pageboy haircut, climbed a tree as high as he could.  He settled on a branch, and tried to play with the children below:  "I win!  I win!  I win!"  he would flatly cry in his little, neutral voice, but no one would pay him attention.  I can see his face now, looking hurt in its own way, backlit by the sun...

Yes, Frank used to do weird, magical, crazy shit to me that to this day I'm still recovering from.  But I can't help but suspect I'm the only one who felt any compassion for him.  Terrifying things have occurred to Frank, and the world has not been nice.  His health has suffered in recent years, and as of this writing, I'm not even sure:  it is distinctly possible he may no longer even be alive.

Many have grown to hate him, but not me.  My heart still beats for Frank, King of the World, and I hope to see him again in this life...