Sunday, June 8, 2008


over thirty years gone and I can still see his face
a face so accustomed I awake from dreams 
thinking him a friend
I know his face better than my own 
which I must see in a mirror to realize
but like a secret open only to me 
I see his surprise as our eyes lock
I see his flicker of life into death in a frozen moment
the surprise wiped slack 
the knowledge drained out
and a new understanding that life is death 
and it is bound to hold us

occasionally I wonder what would be 
if my face were living inside him
a ghost that arises at unpredictable times
a face both alien and kindred 
both known and unknown loved and unloved
wondering what it would be and who would be beside it
amazed at the ease of which life turns to death
and all dreams and what would be are erased
the touch of a cold hand in the night
the distance which was none too far ever closer

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