Goodbye, George

I haven’t been in a room
with George since I left New York—
almost seven years after
the party I threw myself
to say goodbye to it all.

By that time, George and I
no longer worked together,
no longer saw each other
five days a week—just
an occasional weekend.

Looking back on knowing
George in that season,
it’s hard not to smile.
What a wonderful coincidence.

Through photos, it appears
George became more George
in his last years.
Yet how am I to know
the stories pictures
won’t tell? That’s not for me.

I hope that life was softer,
more intimate,
palpable and real
as time went on—
much less than anyone hoped.

Now, undeniable beauty
rests to miss beauty;
to remember beauty;
to grieve beauty;
to long for beauty.

Simply to observe—
for now, space has
eclipsed time and left
one to await its
next vexing act.

There is always
weight to lift
in the void
of loss—and mine
is just a pen and paper.

Goodbye, George.