Sunday, June 5, 2011

The last time I saw you

You were calm and native as a lawn ornament
hunkered down on the bottom step of my back patio
with your painty pants rolled up 
and your bare feet dipped in the unkept grass
as if grown there

I stepped out onto the slate in work socks
and washed myself in the evening air of July
and pulled my shoulders back into position
and watched you corkscrew that $6 wine bottle into the dirt
"to keep it chilled"
the way Dave taught you

The divorced girls next door had a fire going
and every few seconds it peaked over the fence at us
and cut the stillness between us with arhythmic popping
but there still wasn't enough space so

I waded along the limits of the backyard, admiring yesterday's clipping
and when I looked back you were gone
and I was holding your $6 wine bottle in one hand
and grabbing at sparks with the other

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