I Thought I Saw John Dorsey

for John Dorsey

In the mix of the crowd,
I thought I saw the hair.

Through the darkness
of a mere moment
stood here in Indiana,
this land of corn & meth,
a poet
friend
lover of fried chicken
the man himself,
John Dorsey.

I thought I saw John Dorsey
with a chap in one hand
& maybe a wing in the other.

It was hard to tell in my confusion.

Sure,
the guy gets around,
but wouldn’t he give a ring
first?

I could be wrong
as I often am,
but I swear
on the lives
of chickens
everywhere
I thought I saw John Dorsey;
they better prepare themselves.

Tim Heerdink is the author of Final Flight as the Fog Becomes Night, Somniloquy & Trauma in the Knottseau Well, The Human Remains, Red Flag and Other Poems, Razed Monuments, Checking Tickets on Oumaumua, Sailing the Edge of Time, I Hear a Siren’s Call, Ghost Map, A Cacophony of Birds in the House of Dread, Tabletop Anxieties & Sweet Decay (with Tony Brewer) and short stories “The Tithing of Man” and “HEA-VEN2”. His poems appear in various journals and anthologies. He is the President of Midwest Writers Guild of Evansville, Indiana.