A Limerick for Mike, from Kaila Rose

The Knicks win after 53 years.

Over-joyed! must have brought you to tears.

In your orange and your blue—

must be startin’ anew!

. . . Heart-attack . . . was the worst of all fears. 

This, of course, did not take you away.

What did?!!! Really, no one can say.

We are all bloody [fucking] pissed

for the years we’ll now miss.

You’re our constant! What can we do? Pray?

Michael Manjon! We loved you to death.

All gathered here have your name on their breath.

From us: you’ll never part.

Sorry! Stuck in our heart! 

Yet, PLEASE rest now, this we do bequeath. 

I’m not sure how to put you in rhyme.

Endless hours—still living in Time—

of our laughs and our chats 

(back-bar cleaning of mats).

Handsome devil, always in your Prime. 

This poem is . . . no good at all. 

But its laughs hope to help you recall:

Happy times—if you like—

with our dear, precious Mike.

From your friend, (crying inside the stall).