for Andy
It was recently
a friend’s birthday.
I wished him well,
in the modern way,
with a simple statement
on his wall.
I remember the time
how we used to play
music together,
how he would
force me
to listen to country
and pretend
to dress
like the cowboy he was
and how he would
teach me how
to play the
French Horn.
I remember the time
we tried to go skiing
but got stuck
on the snowy Oregon
mountain road
and went to eat
country Oregon
diner food
instead (I’ve still
never been skiing).
I remember the time
sitting on his bed
listening to Bette Midler
looking through
photos of his family,
how he looked at me
smiling, so proud
of what he was showing
me and how I wanted
to kiss him, how I always
wanted to kiss him,
and we sat there
and didn’t kiss
and how he turned the page
after such a long pause.
And so it went,
and goes
and keeps going
going.
And just knowing
the people in your past
can still be
the people in your present,
if only enough
to resent the fact that
they aren’t really there,
is present enough
for me, this time.
