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.