He was looking for treasure, so he said.
In the cold waters below in Marina Del Rey.
His friends tried to stop him, but he was full of life and a liter of vodka.
His marriage was on the skids; his band wanted him out unless he checked into rehab.
He was the only one that could actually surf.
A wildman and past heartthrob.
He kept diving, to his friend's dismay.
Producing various scraps of junk.
A rope and an old picture frame he had tossed from that very same slip from a previous marriage.
There was such glee in his insanity and life within his soul.
And on Christmas day, Dennis Wilson dove one last time to never return to this world alive.
Maybe he found that treasure he so desired; my hope is he found peace instead.
We are but a cork on the ocean rest well within her depths.
Sail on sailor.
John Patrick Robbins, is a southern gothic writer his work has been published in. Horror Sleaze Trash, Punk Noir Magazine, Impspired Magazine, Piker Press, Medusa’s Kitchen, Disturb The Universe, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Fixator Press and The Dope Fiend Daily.
His work is always unfiltered.
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