I wanta go out like the Man in Black

That's how I feel about the late June Carter Cash.

I've always loved June. So much in fact, I'm willing to break style rules and refer to her as June, not Cash. Or Carter Cash. Or however it's supposed to be done.

She's pretty much the all-time perfect woman. She stood by Johnny through it all. It didn't matter what he did or what kind of trouble he got into, she was there with him through it all. I think that's the type of love every guy wants.

Some people like to point to her two divorces to discredit her loyalty, but everyone knows Johnny and June were meant to be together. It was only a matter of time until it happened, even if they had to make a few stops along the way to get there.

Johnny proved it was possible to die of a broken heart when he died just a few short months after June did. Drugs, pain, fame, booze, none of it could kill Johnny because he had June through it all. A few months without her and he was six feet under. It wasn't a coincidence.

I wrote a poem the other day with a Johnny and June reference the other day. I asked a friend for a suggestion on how to end it. He suggested a Johnny Cash lyric, but not a well-known one. I then had an idea of my own: a June lyric.

I turned to several Web sites for help in finding a wide range of her collection of lyrics. Not only was I surprised she had written a few songs I have heard but didn't know were hers, I was surprised to discover she could write. She was insanely talented as a writer.

I don't think she was an all-time great singer by any means, and she was well connected in the business with her family and later husband, but she could have easily made it on her own as a songwriter. I thought she was perfect before, but now that I know she could write, I'm sure of it.

I've never co-written with anyone before, let alone a dead person. But here's the poem I made reference to earlier. I stole the last line from June.

I feel just like Johnny

When he was chasing June

I wish I had his drugs

To numb this pain of mine

It's no coincidence

Johnny gave them up

The day she took his last name

He didn't have to

Wrestle with the demons

A woman tamed his soul.

He didn't have to null the pain

He found comfort in her arms

I want to find comfort

Someplace other than this bottle

I could turn to another

But borrowed love is awful cheap*