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More in Memoriam, December 25th 2011

Poetry By: Wilbur

More attempts to capture and release a friend who died today not unexpectedly not anticipated so soon

Submitted:Dec 25, 2011    Reads: 29    Comments: 8    Likes: 4   

More of the Man From Down the Hall
In memoriam, December 24, 2011

I sit here on the side of my bed
And I gaze at the sunset
Now but a salmon-pink edging
The darkened hills that bank the city

On the ring of highway
Cars and wagons and trucks stream
Headlights tiny eyes
Poked out in front, questing

Down below, across the street
A car faces inward in its drive
Headlights on, red rear lights
Standing still, unmoving

In contrast, out in front
On the street itself
Cars come and go
Passing in crisscross pattern

It is all life, moving on
Indeed, despite death
All of life is still going on and on
In all of its expressions

My friend shared this view
From his apartment
Down the hall
Where he lived - until now

In contrast to his one view, this one
I have three views - north, west and south
He said in jest that he'd not speak
Of the disparity in our viewpoints

Looking southward,
As he did and I do now
One is often struck
By the glory of winter sunsets

Doubled at high tide
Their spectacular show
Duplicated by reflections
In Back Cove's water

Now the tide is out
The Cove a broken mirror
In its shallow muddy bottom
Crackles of salmon-pink

Above the humpbacked hills
Blackened now in nightfall
A silhouetted column of smoke
I wonder where and what

City lights have all come on
One atop the medical center
Arcs brilliant white repeatedly
Signal for incoming helicopters

Once, when leaving here
My friend from down the hall
Said he would never say another word
About my extravagant three sided views

He was right
He never will
I sit here watching fading sunlight
And remember him saying that

I have a view to the North and the gut
That threads its way out to open ocean
A view most easily accessible
Through winter's bare trees

And I have a view to the West
Where atmospherics permitting
I will see Mt. Washington and where
In summer the late sunsets blaze

So, I must have my directions amiss
I must be slightly, not truly
North, West and South
I don't know, but my friend would

He knew those kinds of factual things
All kinds of factual things
Well, he was a laboratory person
Who then at fifty became a registered nurse

But I am not like that
Facts available for reference
I prefer to deal in other fabrics
Silk and feathers, furs and furbelows

I think that's what amused my friend
My feathers and furbelows of thought
My friend who shared this South-ish view
Who is no more

But I am, so I sit on the edge of my bed
Tears rise but do not fall
Why tears? I know my friend would tease
But would also offer a clean white handkerchief

All right, that never happened
I just believe it shows him as he is
As he is and will be to me,
Still, now, and always

I sit and watch the salmon-pink
Give way to darkness
Watch the color leach away
The dark take possession

Then I rise to come back here
To punch at keys and try once more
To play the music
Of my friend from down the hall


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