Someone once said that we die twice--
First, when we take our very last breath.
The flame on our candle goes out as we
Transition between life and death.

But then comes our second dying.
It’s similar but not the same.
That death occurs when someone for
The very last time says our name.

So where are extinguished flames?
What happens to the morning dew?
What effect does speculating
Have upon our point of view?

Life has many questions to ponder.
I wonder if such thoughts are freeing:
Knowing that we once had been
And not remaining attached to being.

-by Bob B (10-26-19)

Maybe our letters will be published one day too,
And we'll get a place in history together.
You deserve a place in history, in my history.
I want to remember this, forever.

It’s in these moments
Of complete and utter isolation
Where we feel as though we don’t even know who we are
Where we begin to truly understand ourselves for the first time

As waves wrestle playfully,
I revel like a nonchalant dreamer near the shores,
watching the sun disappear,
while the sounds of sea,
calm its disappearance

I waited all night,
to see the golden coronation
of the bluish waters,
as the horizons brightened up
in the morning

a thousand faces,
a million visions,
now stay within me,

meanwhile the city of dreams,
sleeps somewhere.

On my last subway ride
I fixate on the plastic map that rims the gap above the exit.

My eyes follow from Ossington, west down the line two.
I stare with such detail.
If the subway weren’t so packed
maybe I’d steal that map for myself.
Put my hands on each corner
and pull out the edges from their holders.
Roll it up into my hoodie
and sneak out like I’d stolen a priceless jewel.
Too many people on the subway I thought, that’s why I won’t.

I take the 44 home from the subway,
and think about how ***** it feels.
How it wasn’t the storybook ending I imagined.
Where everyone hugs and maybe someone cries.
The sky was grey and I was running errands.

As I left for the train station early next morning
I thought about how I may never see these buildings the same way. You have to be in the city to see the buildings this way.
Looking out at the patios that riddle the downtown outskirt condo’s, each floors’ stacked on top of another.
How nice it must be to live so close to a skyline.
How nice it must be to stand outside and still miss the rain.