he walks out onto the street
pulls a cigarette from behind his ear
places it gently in his mouth
rests the garbage can
lights his smoke
and pulls the can
back to rolling position

you can only see him
by the faint glow
at the end of his cigarette
and eventually even
that is gone
and the universe goes on
as it was

sometimes
there is a poem
you just need
to write

it was good because
I could laugh off the small things
and smile when I was challenged
and grin at my enemies
and smirk at my loves

it was good because
I could be happy and not feel guilty
and enjoy myself without being sad
and dream of the future
and not need to fear it

it was good because
I could finally be alive
and only someone who’s lived
and then failed to live
can really appreciate
just how wonderful
that first day
of living
truly
was

you may try and fail
and try again
but never fail to try
my friend

it was one of my shirts
large, even on me,
but you loved it

the green matched your eyes
and it reminded you
of places
we would
one day visit

and each night
you’d strip off your day clothes
and pull that oversized shirt
over your beautiful *******
and lead me down
to the place
where
my best
and
worst
memories
were made

she made a point
of thanking me
for my care
these
past
few
weeks
and
made sure to tell me
that I was like a
“brother”
to her

squirming
in bed, like a child,
tickled with excitement
by opportunity,
the night before
the big day.