The spirits of when they were
walk among us, breathe our air
because no one truly goes
they're still here
in our gestures
in their clothes
it's just that sometimes
grief's so strong
and blinds us
to what we knew all along

no one truly goes.

He looked like he could have been
that man we thought he should have been
but it wasn't him at all.

A case of mistaken identity is
not as useful as a case of wine.

Saturday dressed in black and it's early
so she might go back
and change into something
a bit lighter.

Seek and you will find
or maybe life's unkind
and you'll go blindly on
never finding the one.

But one is out there
and usually where you
least expect.

Postscript.

Some who are living do not know
that life thrills you before it kills you,
there's no escaping fate and her hand.

I've been here before
the last day of the first month
in the new year,
yes
I've been here before.

Different but the same
or possibly the same
but a bit different,
or
I'm getting older
and my
eyesight weaker,
but
mentally stronger
I hunger no more
for those things
not meant to be
and
not meant for me,

so
different in a good way
and today is a good day
to be alive.

..and then
I did the dance
you know
the one
where you think you're dead
you know

but it was She
showing me what
life could be
you know
and now I do too.

All of the things I could be
and here I am
looking back to the
future
where I was me,

time's *****
one minute you're
bathed in the morning
light
and then
the night comes along.

I'll get over it
or
go under with it,

it's no problem
at all.

I walk off the ache in these old bones
and smell the oranges hanging from
the trees.

early morning workers
talking in hushed whispers,
two cyclists that **** right by me
clearly
they're not bothered by me.

Coffee from a sleepy waiter?
no!
I think I'll see you later
and on my way I go.

Magic in the streetlights
that seem to glare at me,
perhaps my sight needs
readjusting, but
I think I'll wait and see.