Ode to Crispin

jolly soul to find
in those summers-on-hudson
in a brick building behind
we played like children in the night
each of us in our rooms
pounding metal, painting, making things from
brooms
we dug deep in dumpsters
with treasures we would find
hopes for transformation
with kinship guiding walking blind
Knew you’d be there in the late
napped and full of caffeinate
to meet you on the pavement or in the open door
telling tales
being who you were
what comfort you have given
and it was counted upon
a survivor seeking
you inspired
may your loving soul live on.

Elisa Lendvay