I’ve been drinking less, or trying, as the lights of the telephone poles blink out. The lock of your hair off with the mail to Los Angeles &, because I wasn’t there (or so I’m told) was spared. A missing sandal. The open house & school supplies &, despite my worst scenario, I didn’t know you’d be gone so soon. The scars from surgeries. The sky mostly clean but the oregano & purslane still wet in this latest retelling of what & why. My little glimpse sitting through that night on the fire escape with your friend from California. The plantain lilies, the beebalm & wild bergamot. The cardinal back at it in the maple tree & the same joke, this time told by the one left behind. Our boy, nine & nine-tenths asleep, reaches across the night to make sure I’m still here.

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