One bright red
peony
inappropriately tucked in
your lapel

pierces the greys
of your suit and the sky.

Stiff-legged people in
soggy black shoes stand an
impromptu shoulder-width-apart-

Sharp and flat
piano keys against the concrete.
You stand with your arms around me
like you think I'll fall.
But I think probably I won't.

Somewhere behind the rain
guns are firing ceremoniously
and trembling hands rest delicately
on his folded flag.

(But I -
am peeking past
a sterile wooden door
afraid to see his sunken chest.

How small,
how
very
small he seems.

And he lifts his hand
and waves to me
and I'll never know
if he's saying)

Goodbye.