31 October

Some moments in these days are too much.
Changing trains, three times, to get to you.
With the pages of my book edging in sogginess from yesterday's bike ride in pouring rain.
I told you about it then. When my pants were dripping and my hair was wet, matted against my skin.
You stared at me with your one open eye.
I asked, "Do you recognize me, Paul?" You nodded.
Up and down. I took that to mean yes.
My body blurs into strangers.
Into park benches.
Train stations.
I have no idea how you're feeling.
Don't know a single thought you are thinking.
I only know that we were together.
Connected through that hospital bed and Trampled by Turtles in each of our ears.
Time alone. One on one.
I'm sure I've told you that's where I'm best.
Only myself. No social anxiety to express.
Last night, I dreamt you woke up.
It was rushed and tubes were pulled from your body.
It isn't fair. That's what I thought about the dream.
That's what I thought about you, now, barely moving
As Ya Ya kept my body from sliding down to the lanoleum hallway floor.
There are so many jokes to tell.
Memories of you where you've got me laughing.
But like the shadow of clouds reflecting on the train wait station window
The man in that bed
With blood stains on his teeth and "No Bone" written on gauze taped to his forehead.
I try. Every day. But I can't turn him into you.
Because I love you little darling
I love you till I die
Like the sun down in the valley
And the stars alone at night.