The Animation Pimp: Fun Fun Fun with Run Run Run

Chris Robinson’s ode to the brilliant Run Wrake, who left us far too soon in 2012.

The Animation Pimp.  Image courtesy of Andreas Hykade.

For Run Wrake

Run was here.

Now Run’s gone.

I was here.

Still I’m here.

 

We met in ‘96

Asked me to play his jukebox.

I said no.

Then said yes.

 

We danced

With Curtis Mayfield, Sammo Hung,

Jackie Chan and meatheads.

 

Jukebox stops.

I want more.

I NEED more.

Run gives more.

 

Music for Babies. Howie B. U2, Robbie, Gang of Four.

Rhythm. Head buzz. Pop-look POW.

Whatever it was

Doesn't matter

Whyever it was

Doesn't matter.

 

FELT it,

Sensed it,

Devoured it.

 

A pause

Years pass

Need to look away

 

Then one day a BANG!

An explosion from a rabbit hole.

Little Dick and Little Jane break free of what wasn't to text cynical sunshine blood coloured gumballs of what is.

They inhale the here as they brutalize the now,

But poor Little Dick and poor Little Jane don’t see the dawn.

They don’t know that the sun always gives way to the dawn.

They don’t know but Run did.

 

This dawn looked like nothing before.

Because it was a life he’d never lived before.

I knew though.

I’d been there.

I lived it before.

No need to ask.

 

We spoke about our chemo cancer fear

Mostly our hope

Then mine came the day his left.

I would live.

He would not.

I was angry.

He was not.

 

Three months later.

October 2012.

I sit in a cancer clinic

Phone vibrates Run’s death

Doc says I’m okay.

 

Head out into the dawn stunned

Strut and stumble the sidewalks

Heading towards home

Wherever that is

Whatever that is

Before the dawn gives way to darkness

And hopefully

the sun.

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