She had had Letham’s Disappointment
Artist on her shelf, another edition
than mine, hardback. You can guess
where it goes from here.
I talk about you more often down here.
Here, because you are not the typical
taboo topic to be picked around and
through. Here, the memories were fond
and friends all liked you, it wasn’t
feigning, I promise.
We never got a dog together, or
an apartment, or even a good long
road trip. And I miss the winks.
Take it back, I know now, here.