The Phil and Kevin Morning Show

I hear the birds chirping at 6 AM
the same time of the morning
my roommate Phil and I brewed
a pot of coffee and chain smoked
cigarettes. Phil turned it into a
program on the animal planet,
describing the chirps and which
types of birds they were coming
from, and noticing the subtle
changes in the formation of
the clouds. He and I argued
about music. One time we
agreed that Michael MacDonald
ruined the Doobie Brothers
but when I came back with
a third cup of joe, he was
jamming to What a Fool
Believes and I said what
the fuck, Phil? He said
he couldn’t help it,
MacDonald or no, it
was a good tune. Then
it would become time
for me to shower and
head to my treatment
program and for Phil
to either nap or go on
a fat kid snack cake
shopping spree at the
dollar store, as he
called it. He lost his
job at the golf course,
but still planned to slap
the ball around, and
with a year on the streets
behind him he was not
about to let it get him down.
Now I hear the birds chirping,
but no Phil or his signature
cigarette perched on his lips,
marveling at the simple
pleasures of the world
and making the wind laugh
at us when it blew our cheap
haircuts into sight gags.
He’s not here right now as
I drink coffee and smoke
an extra cigarette for him,
and I pay attention to the birds,
the clouds and the tickle of
the wings on Phil’s favorite
local hummingbird, all of us
still here after his abrupt
big sleep blew him away
from us to a different place
people argue over in warfare,
the complicated nothingness
of what a fool believe to be
eternal paradise, but that
paradise was right here
at this back porch table
where we talked about
the promise of a new life.
***