My Friend Doug

My Friend Doug

My friend Doug, he called today, his no-fun-voice, sounding tired
…up Nishga way, his routine call, a fire-ball, leaping, spired,
burned two turns ahead in the cold lava bed…broke trees, still-spinning tire.

Rain-soaked locals all banked above – one wreck held soft …a falling cry…
“She’s thrown clear…and landed here… says he’s…inside…we couldn’t…try…”
(Instrumental line)
… when came a crawling, burning, sigh…

”Help me please!” … our host transfixed - black skin, no hair, smoke eyes,
Heart-broke Doug faced the crowd, “Down here - please you guys!”
Two moved to help the man away, there on Doug’s slicker wet he lay
last waking words torched mouth blurred…“wait…seat belt…burn away.”

soon Aiyansh cops there, ambulance too, the fire crew…“What did you do?”
They looked my friend Doug in the eye…“Thanks,” they said,
“he’ll live (to wish he’d died?) because of you.”

(long evocative sappy heart-strings twangin’ break)

Douglas proved himself today - and more than once before I’d say,
When you know…when you know…when you know.


Mark Ed Wane

The man did survive and has ‘recovered’ and since met with Doug to express his extreme gratitude.