but i
remember you
circling
the sun
i
remember your face
like i
remember the future
your
sister crying behind a
pane of
broken glass as you
slide
your hand through the jagged
opening
to touch her and then
picasso’s
suicide at the
news of
paul’s death
the
simple fact of ringo
told me
he was your favorite but
i think
you were drunk and i
think
we were through
a phone
call, maybe,
or a
letter from rehab
the
drugs that you swore were
better
than fucking
the
threats from your
husband,
the communist
said
there were children both
real
and imagined that
needed
to be considered
said
there was an ocean view
and a
brighter future and that
the
stones were better anyway
told me
he was on
the
next plane out to
come
and find me
told me
it seemed like kicking
my ass
would definitely be
worth
his time
was the
last thing i ever heard
from
either of you
No comments:
Post a Comment