requiem for Marty

I grew up with Marty. A child prodigy trained in classical violin, but as a teenager he was the state bluegrass fiddle champion. We headed to Nashville once in my old truck, but got caught in a blizzard in Indiana. We stayed at a cheep hotel and kept supplied with food and liquor for a week through his fiddle playing in bars. We never got to Nashville. The last I saw Marty was in Minneapolis. He looked sick and talked excessively of Jesus and salads. He wasn't playing anymore... He died in an institution.

This is for my friend, Marty...