So much time
has passed
since you grabbed me by the shoulders,
and yelled
at me
about stealing money from my parents.

You are the asphalt.
You are the reflectors.
You are the speed limits.
You are the road.

I came to visit you,
when you were laid up in the hospital,
and I felt all right
about crying.

I have been in love
by now,
and you know about it.

Bojangles tastes like happiness
when we sit in the lobby,
over cajun fries,
and you tell me about
my grandmother.

Because she was so strong
in her love
and you
were so weak.

"You are my hero,"
I said.

And meant it,
even now
when I am
restless
and unsure.

Bills
are not paid in full
by the end of the month,
and I have a thousand loan checks to fill in;
but I will pay them in your stern and gentle voice.

I think
that there are some things that I am missing on,
so,
I will never plan
your funeral.