When I get around to finding you
among the empty automobiles and vacant buildings,
the groves that will surely shrivel and die-
I might have a bottle of beer with me
to chase the memories of yesterday
that refuse to join the sky.
I used to look forward to seeing you,
the way you held my hand
and spoke to me about making
something of myself.
Now I sit down in my usual place
and I watch words become pictures inside my head,
the last image of the
ceiling before the lights go out,
a glimpse of the neighbor next door in skimpy panties
calling her dog from the back porch.
Once in awhile things turn into something
gentle reminders that the moments matter,
the beginning and the ending of what we think and how we
struggle
to change the unchangeable,
how we put together little
pictures from broken memories
hope of doing more
or doing less
than
yesterday.
September 30th, 2000
..and you were gone.
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