Dear Norris please don't leave us here, drowned out at the bar

Norris Dryer used to say,
"God how i hate these young females at the bar,"
screeching in their shrill, high-velocity and -impact voices
designed to crowd the air and reach across the room,
to draw attention to their splendid and often physically attractive,
noisome selves.

Norris my dear friend, be glad at least that you died
six or so years ago, and
didn't live to see the progressive state of this
libertinist siren-screeching in 2020.

You may not even in your vibrant cynicism have predicted
how awful these creatures
---and in our own mutual experience, awful, but mainly bourgeois white creatures---
have become.
Even in such a very long, fraught time
as these epochal six years.
With their borrowed rap-music language of the hood:
"I'm that Bitch that...blablabla." they say loudly..
and then repeat..

That's what they say now, pitched so high, in a hoarse,
partied-out voice creaking with a lack of
bed-time or quiet-time.

Their delirious music rises above the beery mash of bar-din.
They don't allow many words in edge-wise, as they
bray so stridently about this or that idle, combative, vanity-stricken thought.
Declaring their admirable personalities, these self-described bad bitches.

Norris i'm so scared now.
They used to be only about 5'5" of loud lead vocals,
self-admiration, and social media presence incarnate.

Now though...they are almost 6', as far as i'm concerned.
Bigger, taller than me at least.
Never traveling alone of course, and often with some simpering 6'5" male.
Together reeking of the economics of Darwin and total cavity-filling.
If fluoride has diminished their minds it has
tragically failed to limit their physical growth
and vocal capacity.

They declaim for you, they screech in the bright, dark spot of your absence.
i miss you Norris Dryer, Brilliantly Gay Symphony Violinist and Green Party candidate for local governance, thou thrilled patron of the
rippling-muscled abdomens of the prostitute streets,
you raconteur and fine appreciator
of words and modulated speech.
Even your rigid refusal to love jazz music
is beautiful now, and half-admired.
And i miss your
charming, unapologetic contempt
that came like regular crashing iceberg flows,
against the state of things.

 http://jackneely.com/wordpress/2014/10/31/norris-dryer/