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Hey Bobby,
by Peter V. Dugan

Hey Bobby, you’re overdressed.

Suit, tie, jacket,

and a carnation;

I almost didn’t recognize you

without your leather.

Do you feel out of place?

I see you’re packed

and ready to go;

leather jacket, ratty

cut-off, and your cap,

all folded neatly

on the side.

Beer, Jack Daniel’s,

and cigarettes

right next to you.

Pictures of your wife,

your kids, and your bike,

all the things

you liked, loved,

and lived for crammed

inside a box.

Are you going to miss them?

Hey, Bobby,

it’s a going away party.

The guys are giving

you a toast, wishing

you a safe ride. . .

while, the girls sit crying

with your family.

They miss you already;

but you remain silent.

I thought you liked parties.

How does it feel to be

the guest of honor?

Well I’ve got to say good-bye now,

I wish you could stay longer.

It won’t be the same without you;

but you chose to live hard

and die fast.

I’ll miss you Bobby B.

Do you think there are bikes

wherever you’re going?

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