Playing in the Band

 

Mike played guitar,
Pete played bass,
and I played drums.  

When we started out,
they were sixteen;
I was fifteen.
They were dedicated
and impressive.  

We had our first beers
at seventeen.  

But at nineteen,
the drugs started.  

Their behavior
changed.
(I thought for the better.)
The shows amped up;
we were kicking ass.  

Mike started drinking heavily,
daily.  

Over time,
focus left them
like a girlfriend who ran
off with someone else.  

Coke and alcohol
possessed each one.
I barely
knew them anymore.  

Twenty years later,
Mike died of
alcohol dementia
(Korsakoff Syndrome).  

He couldn't always
remember my name
and would mention things
that never happened.  

Pete died of a stroke,
possibly from too much coke.  

The music died too.  

It's as if the contract
they signed up for
had clauses
they didn't know about.  

I watched them
deteriorate
until inspiration
divorced them.  

Until their lives were
no longer in control.  

Until
their heartbeats
slowly ran out  

like wound-up
metronomes.