Dave - Copyright © 2001 John P M Dillon -

It's nearly one ay em
For some crazy reason I'm up,
Irresponsible,
Ignoring the future

The buzzing alarm clock
Will soon assault my ears
In just a few short hours
I must return to respectibility

But for now I stare at the computer
In disbelief
On a whim I Yahoo'd
And typed in Pat's name

The power of the internet
Unleashed both barrels
Of its rusty shotgun
As I linked to his memorial
In shock and disbelief

Dave, gone?
How? Why?

Each of us with our memories
Recall different images
Mine are distant
A desert and eternity away

Dave, mall-maggot sized,
Underfoot at Camelview
But immensely capable in a technical way

Dave, older and better travelled,
With his incredible back pain
And titanic stories of stunt duty

Dave, roommate,
Wearing my derby
And working together at the Sombrero
Up till dawn
Because the darkest times are best

Dave, coworker
Sweltering in Blythe,
A noble, failed experiment of a movie job,
Where you'd pop a can of Classic Coke
Beneath his nose
To rouse him into morning consciousness

Dave, pal,
Racing his Triumph GT6+
Against the '66 GTO ragtop I happened to be driving
The twin tickets we received
From cycle cops at 7th St and Camelback
And our trip to traffic school
"I was row captain,"
He joked
About those too serious training sessions

Dave and Susi from the Hayden East Cinema days
Cuddling between reel changes in the old easy chair
Beyond the Simplex 35s
Though I had wished it were me
In her giggling young company

Dave and Tracy from the Sombrero,
Slyly watching from the living room
As my brief girlfriend and I
Padded naked from shower to bed

Dave and his bottle of Xecote,
Cotton swabs ready
To clean the gates,
Wipe the intermittents,
Remove the grit from between the teeth of sprockets

I can't imagine him in his later years
He was always so young
As were we all
Then

Every few years
I stumble across his picture
And his voice
And idly wonder
What great new tales he'd have to tell

There are no current memories
That I can share of Dave
It has been twenty years
Since our paths last crossed
But I am saddened by his loss
Just the same

Dave Bobka died at the age of 35 on Thanksgiving day 1996, without warning nor illness. He claimed to be a frisbeterian, saying that when he passed on his soul would end up on the roof where no one could reach it.

Visit the Dave Bobka Memorial web site.