by Julia Griffin

“The Simpsons has killed off beloved character Larry the Barfly after 35 years”
—Digital Spy

“Larry was—around”
—Moe’s regular Carl Carlson

He sat out half the journey of man’s life
At Moe’s. He liked Duff beer (so we assume).
He had no other pleasures, job, or wife
We know of—just an aged mother whom
We met (quite awkward) at his funeral,
Thanking his friends: Carl, Lenny, Homer, Moe.
They did show up, though clearly it took all
Stern Marge’s will to make her husband go
On Larry’s final road trip, with his urn.
Then what? No sooner had the poor late slob
Been burned than matters took a comic turn,
With fake cops, stolen jewels, and the Mob.
At least he reached Serenity. Sleep sound,
Old pal. As Carl observed, you were—around.