29 April 2017

Second Verse for Bill

Completion is hard.
In a story or a poem, everyone starts with the understanding that
This is just a piece. A thought. A snapshot.
In a novel they expect an ending.
When you are writing a novel you have to decide
Where to stop. Though there is no ending really. The story
Always goes on. Even after every one of your characters dies,
Someone or something else

After the show but before the babies
And long before we knew we could die
suddenly or otherwise,
you kissed me for the second time
under the streetlight by your apartment.
When you pulled away, you were smiling that gap toothed smile
that you never did get fixed.
We would always recognize you, you knew
by the space between your teeth.

Before long and longing and long before social media
could tell me you were gone
there was a streetlight and me on my bike.
Beer happy and twenty-five.
Facing home.
You OK? you asked and meant it.
Oh, don't worry about me. It's downhill from here.
I'll just point
and coast.

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