No Explanation for Lenny

By Brooks Yeager

So it turns out
that there IS no explanation —
for Lenny.

At least not
that would satisfy
a philosopher —
an inquiring mind.

He would have wanted it that way.

A Jewish jazz drummer
who played with Jimi
and Cal Tjader,

then found his heart
in the one – two
of Gwich’in drums?

Who found bliss
on the shores
— of the Arctic?

Forsook his drum sticks
for a camera
and found soul anyway.

A Jewish leprechaun!

Who became
a Gwi’chin Elder?

Who danced in Bahia
with “Grandmas Gone Wild,”
and Captain America.

Who became an organizer,
driven by love for the land.

The land of the caribou.

Who then became a mountain man,
and the voice
of the untopped Appalachians.

Of the creeks
and hollows.

Who found bliss
— in Jamaica,

Who was MY daughter’s
“Uncle Lenny.”

Caiparinha Man?

The one who drank
all my single malt?
Every time?

We’re talking some serious Ganja,
trying to explain Lenny.
Maybe a block of hash
as big as a chair.

And we still
won’t find the answer.

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