A new poem by Slim in which I detect a shortening of ironic distance.

Driving Home with Leonard

Despite what he says

not everybody knows,

not everybody knows

like Leonard knows.

Not everybody knows

that the best songs

are about loss,

about endings;

about so long

ways to say goodbye

closing time,

and that age

can be laughed about

but not at,

if I had a hat

I would raise it to Mr. Cohen

perched up there alone

in his ancient tower.