He told me that his father had been murdered
I picked the wine with the purple bird
and a beak shaped like a cork *****
ran into an old boyfriend at the liquor store
because life can be random with our emotions
his beard was already taking shape
one year of mourning marked by his son
it felt like a social gathering, looking out of
my window, how I had the best view in town
then, how the hospital below was excruciating
how his shirt had been covered in his father's blood
how he had not been able to talk to anyone
because he needed to be strong for them
how Dad had tried to bargain with his killer
and that image was giving him nightmares
he just wanted everything to feel normal again
a friend and neighbor
one glass of red
shoveling dirt until the casket was covered
his buddies were waiting at some guy's apartment
a helplessly sad hug goodbye
he smelled like Aveda, although I didn't mention it
how humans can walk and talk while dreaming nightmares
subliminal messages between the living and the dead