I went to the end of the hall, your voice echoing
a cool breeze in a hot, dense mind
                         "we are going through the same thing, aren't we?"
you were up early that morning, and I had been up all night,
counting the wood panels in the cabin walls

we sat looking out over the lake in silence that morning in 2004,
not knowing that it would be our last trip.

                            I was up late that night in 2016
                              thinking of you
                                      in my mind
                                                  no hair on your head was missing

everything comes down to this
the way the night falls around
my cold hands
and fast feet
on the pavement
thump thump thump

and your heart beating
thump thump thump
until it didn't
and how they didn't really try to keep you alive
because you were old
but how they kept me in the hospital for weeks
in and out of coherence
my body heaving for air
my mind just asking
            for a break
and
        when I think of you now
clean air over the lake
           a smile on your face
as you died
I didn't know what you meant then
              but now, Ron
                                       I do.