Coppola had said he couldn’t believe something so specific could be gone
Our going-away party
coincided with your birthday this year
miles away but the same idea:
we all think we’re special
we all think we’ll be missed.
Yes!
I missed you THAT night
looking at strange pictures
of you & Roland (a goddamn cat)
on a cell phone. Dork.
THAT night.
But Seattle stole another anyway –
In February I was there to mourn
the one, (maybe two)
I had made the pilgrimage
relieved of the longing
but you
in Fremont
a jumble of lost phone numbers
takeout
and flakiness
you know
we just didn’t bother
Later
(After)
I imagine you in a small space
on a clean couch
with no dishes and a sturdy lock
plotting a future
planning that family
but
for real! You were searching for the feeling
that living life sucks out
because
you know
after all
life is never
that good.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Friday, August 24, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
The Plot
dull knife
neglected garden
store bought heirloom
and
orange cherries
a tomato left un-staked
becomes a snake
in the garden
winding its way
through the weeds
a strawberry patch
filled with clover
in bloom
eases into the rest
four marigolds
a short and crinkly row
still important
to my girl
this is the plot
broken down
still alive
still full
neglected garden
store bought heirloom
and
orange cherries
a tomato left un-staked
becomes a snake
in the garden
winding its way
through the weeds
a strawberry patch
filled with clover
in bloom
eases into the rest
four marigolds
a short and crinkly row
still important
to my girl
this is the plot
broken down
still alive
still full
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Friday, April 13, 2007
Our 4th Day Back the Robins Sang
Private thoughts at a bargain price
I spy at an idle diary
It was a northwest spring
early and warm
you took your tiny frame to the shack
with root beer and cigars
I am here (for you!) 13 years later
on tiptoes I long for you
I stare over the fence
at the windows of an old Tudor
wanting to see shape or shadow
I left a message
you'll never get
near the largest
rhododendron
I have
ever met
Left my One-Stars
in a nook
next
lived in and
filled with regrets
The greenhouse is gone but I feel the ache
the spot is now home to a
basketball hoop
I signed a bench
to the beat
of a
bouncing
ball
and
it
all
seemed
so
rude
I spy at an idle diary
It was a northwest spring
early and warm
you took your tiny frame to the shack
with root beer and cigars
I am here (for you!) 13 years later
on tiptoes I long for you
I stare over the fence
at the windows of an old Tudor
wanting to see shape or shadow
I left a message
you'll never get
near the largest
rhododendron
I have
ever met
Left my One-Stars
in a nook
next
lived in and
filled with regrets
The greenhouse is gone but I feel the ache
the spot is now home to a
basketball hoop
I signed a bench
to the beat
of a
bouncing
ball
and
it
all
seemed
so
rude
Thursday, February 22, 2007
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