I'll remember her jumping from the airplane to
only disintegrate into billions
of peppered flakes. I'll remember the way she sang
the blues, soft strong, sweet and true.  
I'll remember how they mimicked, how
they tangled language with my soul. I'll
remember the images, turning conniving, clashing and
rushing. The feeling of love in the heart after
carelessly putting yourself together. What does order matter?  
I'll remember Umberto and all he keeps, secret exposed,
rounded and squared.  I'll remember the woman from
the 19th century who haunts me to this day, the
magnitude of the final words of the last zombie.  
I'll remember the glass hairball I couldn't quite hack up,
choking pain, sharp and small.  Knowing I'll never
be stuck in latin translation when Mariana's around is
the greatest relief. I'll remember how she plugged the moon in
so I wouldn't get lost in the rain, graceful purpose, poise and calm.
Her love poems that sent shivers down all our spines. I'll remember
how I drank from her wine glass form and I lost my wits.  
I'll remember when she read my tarot; I felt like Macbeth,
informed mistake, crowned and *******. She only knew that the people
of Hortor would invade.  I'll remember how she won class
the day she pointed out the irony.  The thing I won't remember
is when it all stops going and there's just a room of empty chairs.