Haven’t broken anyone’s heart
which is good. In the course
of a few months I have discovered
they were wrong about something and more
importantly I was wrong:
There is never no-one like the best one. There
will never be someone exactly like that
sunshine-swallowing gauntfaced curlyheaded
dancer, King of my Saturdays and of everything
warm in the snow
but there are a lot of people damn near better-
and closer.
I feel safe standing next to them,
that’s how I know.

I want to say sorry, still.
I really thought it could have been beautiful;
hell, it was beautiful. You’re a sweet sleeping
feet in the grass kind of happiness,
my friend, and you made me see the stars
in my own heart.
I hope your wisdom will leave a
mark this time. No regrets, right? I’m trying not to cry,
I promise, trying so hard to learn
keep hearing your voice in the softness of cottonwood snow:
Let’s keep this safe.
As a memory.