The Birth and Odd Life of William Dockery
by Edward Rochester Esq.

"It's a boy", rang out through the halls,

That began the story of William Dockery.

A make-believe world soon formed, never mind work ethic,
he dreamt of a better way, comics books intrigued --
"I could do that" and the cowboy suit was soon shelved --
"Why go to school? my mind tells me the way, acid,
shows the meaning of the cosmos."

Soon the urge to merge became a guide dog,
young females were soon on the path followed
along with tripping -- love bloomed,
pressed against naive youth,
"I love you, I'm a poet."

"Well, that's good, I'm pregnant."

"I'll ask for your hand, daddy will understand."

The wife, the child didn't dismay,
"I'm a poet, an artist."

Door to door the journey continued, another child,
another tab, another lover--and she was gone, that young woman
who fell for the con man.

The booze kept comfort, the odd 'pay for joy'
and weed, as the search continued
to nothing but dead ends.

Too late, he conned himself into believing the charade.

Booze and drugs were dropped, never explained--was it fear?
doctors orders?

Decades later, he tells his story--not much of a page turner.

His claim to importance ridiculed by all but the offspring
of pretend.

Nothing has changed from those cowboys' days, the con continues,
fellow down and outs salute the never-ending post re-post
along with the never ending "excellent sahib.'

He yodels from the top of his shed,
as squirrels look on waiting for a tossed peanut,
soon going their own way when nothing materializes.

On screen, awards would be give to such a scenario,
the story of down and out with nothing but memories to tell
the rest of us -- and cussed, should they be shared by anyone
but him.

How does it end, this story of not much?

Maybe he was just born to be confined to make-believe.

ER