Jim

Jim I once so badly wanted to be you

I wore your clothes and I tried to throat

your rasp and couldn’t ever quite make it

the same, you, your words, which even then

I found totally absurd but made them work

in the way you would have, with Rimbaud

or Blake;

Jim I grew and I grew until I saw this illusion as

so precious, so delicate, so differently

and I no longer wish to live like you

but I sure as hell wish you’d had

the chance to live like you were me.