Sunday, October 14, 2012

old friends

I saw
an old friend of yours
at the butcher shop today
I knew him by his voice
a cadence like yours
responding to his son
the way you did
the way I still do

it was his face that had me confused
once I turned around to look.
he brushed by
and I circled around again
to look
to see if I could match
the voice to the face, to the eyes

it was him
but I didn't ask. I didn't stop,
my hand on his arm, gentle,
saying his name
imagining he would know
just by touch

He looked past me
not only not recognizing me as me,
but not registering another person at all.
Game face. City face.
"typical," you'd say. "a little arrogant."

It shook me a little, in a nice way, almost.
to be so close to someone who knew you so well
and I regret now
that I didn't stop
didn't stop
to put my hand gently on his arm
and call you close to us again,
to me.


happy birthday babe. we miss you. we all miss you.
a whole lot of us silent and silently
we all miss you
together, apart.



  1. He is RIGHT there, is he not? Lovelove.

    1. yeah. He is. Yesterday, my step-son called after a couple months of age appropriate not-calling. Just as we started to talk, a red dragonfly landed on my knee and hung out there for the call. A red dragonfly, after night-time temperatures below freezing. I needed that, both of them.