Do you remember that day?
We laughed at mortality
Danced wine hungry
Eager for another story.

You said I was not old enough to feel the weight I did, as I circled loops around you. How could I know the ache?
You asked over and over again.

As if the the deed of grief was written in your palm, no man could touch where you had been.

I smiled and told you that you were too old to be treating poison like pop rocks,
Popping each pill in your mouth and forgetting to swallow.

Had we laughed that night at the idea that I’d outlive you? Or is that just the way I remembered it when I watched them bury you?