I was the perfect martyr for that mission, in 
plainclothes uncut hair. While shaking hands, accepting 
the position, I factored the bus fare  and it was twenty 
cents more than I could spend. 'Twenty cents have you, my 
new employer doubling as my friend?' Because I knew that 
I would never find another job quite like that again. I 
was the perfect mother for his messing. I cleaned up 
without care. It seemed like he was giving me his 
blessing to toss off the nightmare, but stuck with enough 
dreams for many men, of course within that lot would be a 
couple nights that would frighten. But I knew that I 
would never find another guy quite like him again. You 
were the perfect model for medicine; a sick day was not 
too rare. Through your bouts you taught one simple 
lesson: to read up and lay bare all our concerns, 'cause 
no amount of Ibuprophen is going to help us now. These 
things, they always catch up in the end. And I know that 
I will never find another one quite like you again.