A World Series for Emily!
An answer for Emily, late October is coming
Michael too, honking out the
last AIDSbreath while you what?
Drank a pale ale, bad wine
- a spandex girlfriend with AA medallions
reclining in your lap.
Schenectady mourns you.
Poughkeepsie mourns you.
The great counties of the Great State of New York
dim their headlights.
Everyone freezes in a game of statues -
then goes on shopping, sweating.
I shrug at the ceiling. Catholic me
would get great comfort if you were up there
watching me write.
Anarcobuddhistpothead sees you in every mote
in the sunlight
in the dyke sportif of Eighth Avenue-
Michael's first death day
He turned gray in Saint Vincent's
and it was over and we were thankful
but this, Emily, just confuses me
and all the time I say is it true
not seeing you for years
and then never being able to
see you again still with visions of
the platinum future you and me
driving high in the valley
and me killing myself to impress you
(You killed yourself?)
and your highest opinion.