for Steve Runkle 1952-2001

Under the canopy of a 50-foot Silver Maple
& with your soaring tenor, you’d croon an original 
love song at my spontaneous wedding.
 
I’d convince you that your almost-bald 
head is sexy. You stop delivering Domino’s
at 2 am, double cheese & pepperoni.
 
Your royalty checks, $115 a month,
increase to 10K. Your album blasts 
to Top 10 on Billboard.
 
You leave Nashville for a horse farm
in Midway, Kentucky, with your faded
blue pick-up & ‘77 Fender Precision Bass.
 
You never end up comatose
at the Vanderbilt Stroke Center,
but take Exit Ramp #2 & elope
 
with Tina, your spectacular lover,
who keeps you on track with vitamins, 
balanced diet & beta blockers.
 
In spring, you witness the pink-purple 
of redbuds & write another hit song.
You strum the old Martin with pearl inlays.