Don
Donald Dean Kelly died on June 5th. I found out today. He was my big one. We were twenty six when we met. We walked past each other in the Village late one night and both turned around. He was wearing a giant parka with a pulled up fur trimmed hood. Gushing beard, big ugly 70s glasses. I only saw the tip of his nose. It was love at first nose. We went to a bar and had beers and I played with the rings at the top his brown corduroy pants that zipped down the front. He told me he was a conceptual artist/ live-in nanny. He once wrote on an egg and sent it through the mail to someone. He slept over and in the morning, I walked him to the subway. He stopped - "wait a minute." He came out of an antiques store and placed a kaleidoscope in my palm. And thus began our many decades of Promised Land and Civil War. Most days, he mumbled and stammered but, once in a blue moon, he delivered a joke to rival Carson. River stone smooth. He once found an 8 by 10 foot mirror on the street and w...
