Twenty and One

When I see
the manifestation of
skin you once possessed
I know you
are not in
front of me.

As my predecessors
fumble with the right
glasses to place
upon your face for
eternity you smile
through me at their
care for your appearance.

We know it seems
foolish to be
meticulous over
lenses and frames now
that you have left. But
I suppose in your
absence it has become
more important than ever.

As I approach your
shell with amber
shades and a forced smile I
can’t help but wonder
what your last
word on paper was.
Was it for
Rosie or soccer
or the sunset
you made for me yesterday?

I touch the cracks
in your olive skin
and make promises
to wear
sunscreen before going
outdoors and go home
to the village of my
forefathers and take
a picture with you
in it.

It seems simple enough
to maintain the familial
balance with your sweet
six keeping everything
in place while
their mothers mourn.

You had no fear
that this day would
leave you on the
doorstep your beloved
landed on twenty years
and one day earlier.

On the day she
said was hers and
would not let you leave.
I kiss your hand
and forehead how I
assume you have
already to her today.

And as she runs
her fingers through
your waves I hope
you tell her everything
she never knew about
me. I share my smile
with her how she
has let me share you
for these twenty and one years.

This is not
goodbye, I know.
Just arrivederci
til tomorrow or
the next time
I smell Jean Nate
as it floats past my
Italian nose. Or
my eye is behind
the lens of a camera.

I let go
of your hand and let
you leave out the back
peacefully as was
your style and today
I paint a picture of
you with the colors
of accomplishment. It will
stand next to
the people and places
you leave
behind.