He has dimples
And a kooky sense of humour and books, he has books!
And books and books and books… All around the house
And he was sweet, and caring, and quiet and closed and young and old
He was a box of muesli
All these bits and pieces coming together to make a helluva package
For those who like the stuff…
We were the creative couple, the one with potential
The ones that were both ourselves and intense and messed up
And we had eyes only for each other
He was that elastic band that never stops stretching
That’s just strong enough to make you go back
Once you’re tired of searching
He’s a dreamer, with this vision and this mind
Which can blow yours
And an ethereal, dream-sequence
And that poem that you try to analyze and cannot
Because it’s so convoluted
Like that calculus problem you’re tussling with
And loving every last second
He is a memory and a reality
He is 3am on a curb, between parked cars
And Marine Drive on a windy evening
He is lightning over the sea and the silver lining around the clouds
He is bun-maska-chai and Blue Riband Duet with sprite
He is not here
And we no longer exist
But he is. And he will be. And someday
As he accepts the Nobel Prize for something
I’ll look around and boast
“I know that guy”
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