He was a complainer,
He never paid a bill on time,
He would ask people if they believed in God,
But he had the most beautiful eyes.
They were blue like the arctic wind
And when he looked at you, he would look through you.
He always picked up women hitchhikers.
He found dozens of young girls
On the northern coasts
And he would drive them where ever they wanted to go,
And he always asked them for sex.
Most of them would reject him angrily
But a few older, harder ones would let him.
He would tell me the stories and smile
And wink one of those eyes
For which he was famous.
One day he was found dead
In the front seat of his old van.
I went to his funeral, not many people came.
But I sat there and remembered his laugh
And thought about how I’d miss this guy
And I thought about his bright blue eyes.