"You can't take a picture of this. It's already gone."

Monday, April 1, 2013

To an Old Friend

When I think of you
I think of an empty mall
and shirttails hanging out over
khaki skirts
phone in front pocket
the way you paid for her
to get her ears pierced
because you were over age
and we were under age
and we needed an

And you kept asking me
if I wanted anything
if you could get me
as if gifts and shirts
and dresses
that I tried on
would make up for lost time
for days spent not talking
and nights where I missed
you so bad
I could smell you
on the air.

You were there
where we would dream
of each other
and then wake up the
next morning
and realize
same dream, dear.

Seems silly now

Best Buy and Target
will always make me smile
Although after,
my stomach hurts
because I know what
it is like to look at you
across a table
across a room
and not be able
to speak
your name
or hold your hand.

And I don't love you
like I loved you

We were the dreamers
way back when
we prayed to Mary and
you still answer the phone
and say
When I talk to you
which is rare
next to never.

And I pray for you
because living a lie
is hard.
I did it.
And it is so difficult.

She never read
the things you wrote to me.
Like next to nothing
I protected your words
like I protected my own

How have I known you
for almost a decade
and only have ten pictures
with you?
I have pictures from you
in orange bathing suits
and with old friends
but we are reduced
to one mall excursion
and a trip to Happy Lamp
and to be
a pink Dickies bag
that will never go out
of style.

I hope you light a candle
for the me that once was
because the death of her
is still hard for me to deal with
even now.

And I know it doesn't help
(I never could)
but I wish you
the best.

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