Lloyd Lambert’s Day At Hunter Mountain
You never did find out why you started receiving free passes
to Lloyd Lambert’s day at Hunter Mountain in the Catskills.
Perhaps it was a gift from the snow god.
Pure grape wine
that’s what the label said,
“Mad Dog 20/20.”
It certainly was bitter at eight o’clock in the morning.
The wine of the century,
along with a finely rolled joint,
thank God and Mogen David,
the proper tools for the proper job
and attitude adjustment.
Touloose,
Expert fire starter, the trick was to use excellent dry kindling,
of course the small jar of aviation fuel, from the silver streak, your BMW motorcycle,
had absolutely nothing to do with your great fires.
Spring skiing, magnum of wine,
chilling,
in the melting snows,
sausage patties sizzling on the open fire.
High Noon sun warmly glowing, creating little mountain streams.
You said,
“We are wise beyond our years, even the executive who works,
for General Motors and makes,
$100,000 a year,
with a matching 401K,
isn’t here today.
When we are old grey haired men,
about to pass from this world.
We will look back upon our lives and we won’t remember,
how much money we made,
how big our wooden boxes were that we lived in,
how many motorized metal containers we owned,
how big our yachts in our slips were,
we will remember and cherish,
our youth spent on mountains,
these days,
and savor the memories.”
Touloose, eminent philosopher, businessman, and ski bum,
comrade,
“Never take the last of anything I told you,”
handing you the last swig of wine.
The seventy year old man,
we drank shots with at the bar,
who had just won his first downhill race that day.
He informed us that we were lucky men.
We never did get to meet Lloyd Lambert,
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