Rec-Collecting Part 3: Alan

I was told that

I have an older brother,

And he's cool,

But I didn't meet him

Until after I was

Grown, so you

Were my true brother

That God placed

In my life when

You moved from

Greenville, South

Carolina to Da Bottom;

Flintwood Dr, Vicki Lane,

Better known as 

Gresham Park.

You came in cross-eyed,

Snaggle-toothed,

And eager to be my 

Friend, even when I

Didn't accept you at

First; even picked on

You early on, being

Insecure in my own

Immaturity and faults

Because you reminded 

Me of my own limitations.

Then, I learned your

Story. How you were

Staying next door to

Me for good with your

Grandparents, who

Were best friends with

Mine, who my mom

And I were staying with.

How your mom had AIDS

And was in and out of

The hospital. How you 

Attached to my 

Granddad's hip and followed

Him everywhere as he worked

On cars in the yard

And connected to him

More than I did, being

A homebody who would

Rather stay inside and

Play my Super Nintendo.

So after fighting, we

Were friends, and played

Street Football, Kickball,

Street Fighter 2, and

Went to LGL and the

Candy Lady, outrunning

Dogs in the process...

Then my Granddaddy died

On the floor next to

My room in 5th Grade

And you cried with me,

Being only a year younger,

And you became my 

Best Friend...

Then your mom died 

When I was in 6th Grade

And we became Brothers...

And life had me leave 

The hood, you, my homies,

My school; against my

Wishes...

Kicking and screaming,

I saw you change when

You got with the Dope

Boys who were recruiting

Me before I moved to

The Westside. You 

Started smoking, started

Failing classes, started

Getting in fights, started

Skipping school, started

Slanging Dro, started living

The life I thought I 

Could get caught up

In... And it all happened

While I was gone from

7th Grade to my Senior

Year, when I came to

Visit one night with

My cousin to play

Ball in front of Big

Justin's house...

I still remember 

You running up to us

From your Grandmom's

House while she yelled 

For you to stay home

That you needed to get

Out of GP that night.

You were truly scared,

And we couldn't truly

Understand it because

You used some of your

Own supply and came

Up short for the supplier.

You got away with it 

Before, but this was the

Last straw, and word

Got around that money

Was put on your head...

My cousin took you 

to the train station and 

I sat in front of you,

Not knowing you would

Go missing for 10 years;

That your body would

Be found in a ditch;

That your murderer was

A family friend that came

To barbecues and gatherings

Years after he dried 

Your bones...

Alan Watson...

The first kid I ever heard 

Call someone an

African-Booty Scratcher...

You still live in my

Eyes through the

Tears that I yet to

Shed, and through

Those I have already wiped 

Away years ago.

My rec-collecting of you,

Carlton, and Nieman

Keeps me on mission,

Carrying your memory

In my soul, as I know

That it was Jesus' grace

Alone that I didn't join

You in the tragedies

That you endured.

I have been told that

I must let go of my

Past. However, my

Past is my driving force 

Towards my future,

And with the fragility 

Of life, everyday my future 

Is a Present.

-J. Doeson