like the bitten bowl of
the forgotten cabbage tear,
all gone by the side of the road. dust
blowing onto the lavender leaf
coughs let loose but only
into the wind through the passenger window.
i miss your face, and i never thought that
my teachers would pass before me. long gone are the days
of whimsy says i, we have a new path now and the
stones are all too rough to navigate.
it is hard for me to see you
as dead. your hands did wonders for the aches of
old Buffalo and you spoke things you meant.
at least in death, we believe everything you said.