I should have said goodbye

in the usual way, with all the

tears and kisses and the grim

looks, all on social display.


Instead, I stood stone struck

and as deathly cold as you in that

final enclosure to a life lived in

so many parts of right and wrong.


Not that I know of the entire collection,

for I only knew the you that loved

the riches of edgy living and the full

generosity of a heart stirred by love.


But to others you turned a different

face–one with the courage to be cruel

and to pay no attention to the vile

expectation of civility that you so distained.


Yes, you were an honest turd, I’ll give

you that, and as you lie in your final bed,

and others around are glad that you are

gone, I will miss the wink that so said it all.


You gave me that as I sat on the bed and

I wanted to cry, but you said, “Enough of that

shit. Do it when I’m gone!” And then you offered

me that sign that you were there and it’s okay.


All the tears came out that day to play and you

would have loved the irony of it all as the ones

who wished you a speedy end were red-eyed and

sad and played well the game on this auspicious day.


And I, the one who loved you true, who loved you anyway,

was not brought to sad looks and abundant crafted tears,

but merely stared at the cot in which this wondrous

child of cheeky delight could go to sleep and find the night.