Porkwalk

The Boy From Down the Hall (They’re All Immortals) Did I ever tell you about young Tom, the boy from down the hall? He lived for Summer, lived for Spring; Lived for Winter, Fall. You used to hear him crying out, every time the good guys won; And his joy was real and seemed destined to never cease or be done. He lived with mom while dad moved out, to the agreement of each and all; Though the boy could feel him daily, through the echoes in the hall. They shared the grass and filled the aisles, while the youngsters sat and prayed; The boy from down the hall awoke, in the hopes that he hadn’t grayed. The years went by, the Eighties, Nineties, so, too, did the boy evolve; Through twenties, thirties, old and new, he lived on his resolve. I heard John Milner died today and I ran to tell young Tom; But he don’t live down the hall no more, though you still can find his mom. You know, we lose a part of us every time that an old friend dies; It makes no difference where they came from, as long as they were one of the guys. I can’t say what became of young Tom, but at night, I can hear him call; They’re all immortals, don’t you know, for the boy from down the hall. On Astoria Boulevard (A Father-Son Joy) Is he there on Astoria Boulevard buying burgers for his son? In fact, letting him know that he is the only one? Are they both in the car, passing Satchmo’s on the by? As the heroes take infield, while the engine birds fly? Is he laying down the chalk now with his mirror, sweet boy? Is there any type better than a father-son joy? Can they reach back in silence as it all falls apart? When a climax seems imminent, can they find ways to start? I can see them through wet eyes, twenty years past the yard; Sharing lore, eating burgers, on Astoria Boulevard.