Poem For Tom Flood

Tom was not only my mentor,
he was my friend.
Tough and kind,
he refused to listen to bullshit.
He got his way by hard dealing
and it always paid.

When he talked, I would watch his hand:
loose fist, thumb overlapping,
index finger down.

He was especially good at explaining,
knew how to laugh,
and simply accepted the absurd
as though expected.

There was no one who ever was better
at what he did
working wonders with work crews and employers:
that was his genius.

He could not be conned, but also respected bravado:
addicts, tough kids and cons.
His lifelong commitment was to give;
he did not give up,
still going
long after he should have retired.

I never heard him use the word love,
but he changed my life,
as he did for so many others.
Like them, I owe him.

Every day of my life, he is here with the love he taught
and which I hope
I may have taught to others.