When Robin Williams
died I thought of you.
I wanted to call you
but I don't have your
number anymore. It's
816-248-something. It
has to be that because
you have T-Mobile and
here they're all 816-248
but I can't remember
the last four digits. You
don't like to talk on the
phone so I never learned
your number. I'm not
sure what I would say
to you if I were to get in
touch with you or run
into you at the grocery
store. Maybe I would
tell you I hate you I miss
you I can't understand
what made you think that
what you did was going
to turn out okay for me
or her or even you. God
just please tell me you're
sorry you were such an
awful human being.

funny that we
become stories in
other people's chests,
that we can spend days
weeks months years
centuries carving every
letter of every word that's
been spoken to us on the
inside of our ribs while
others are content to just
let the syllables fall in their
normal rhythms across their
lungs and no they wouldn't
mind if some of the words
caught on a bronchial tube
or two but it wouldn't be
the end of the world if
they didn't.

can you see
the candles
f  l  i c k e r
through my
sidelights, I
am trying to
let that light
shine before
them.

and this
t  i  m  e,
i will not
beg  you
t            o
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