A rainy day in Saulieu town,
the tolling bell drowned out the sound
of passing cars and frenzied tourists
...
vying for a shot of the basilica
over the top of your dripping coffin.
A mottley crowd of musicians, antique dealers
and other marginal types
scuffed their shoes disconsolately on the pavement
awaiting the entrance of the round bellied
velvet clad priest and his incense burner.
We listened to your music, the priest being
unintelligible apart from the occasional 'BOB'
We dutifully stood, knelt and sang out of tune.
I saw you standing under the crucifix - smiling
We did the standard coffin tour and patted
whatever was under the wood
muttered a few embarrassed words and waved a
magic water wand as if it meant something,
and then we dispersed, some to the cemetry,
some like us to return home
and shoot a little pool
...and reflect on yet another friend gone ahead.
Bye Bob Lenox, it was cool knowing you.
