Here is a photo of me

Reenacting a photo of you

Reenacting a photo of your father

At Patchin Place, NYC.

e. e. cummings is great but

I was a fan of you and your writing

And of you.

You had sticks of gum

In the small pocket

Of your rolled up jeans

And cool red shades

That broke in my bag

In Carolina

Where I kissed you for the last time

Unknowingly

At the bus stop

Early in the morning.

A plane flies overhead

And I remember you

Standing in the airport

In your checkered shirt

In 3D

You had something in your teeth

You were perfect.

You have a beard now,

My hair is long.

It has been a while but

I still can’t listen to Abbey Road

And I make tea for one

With my kettle on the hob.

This cul-de-sac

Was alive and warm then

Now it is dead and cold

But Spring is coming,

So they tell me.

I pray you are as happy now

As I was then

With you

At Patchin Place.