I trashed every cubicle of things you left behind, all the ointments, swabs, expired insulin, syringes, the wound care, half empty bottles of antibiotics, prednisone and compound mixes. Just kept a tote of letters, winter gloves, scarfs, flannels. Those beautiful long sleeved shirts you wore when you traveled, even the Mont Blanc you cussed at, saying; ‘what a waste of money, you piece of shit, fuck you pen’
Your drawings, every greeting card you ever sent me, those dark journals were you documented being in hospice, the exact hour of every dose, the progressiveness of your handwriting weakening, with side notes of instructions; Mari, grease garage rails before winter, synthetic oil changes for your car only. So many notes. I will forever cherish.
Garbage hasn’t picked up yet, had to drive away, cause the urge to bring it back in is stronger than me.
Taking a drive; blasting the Beatles in the memory of you, of us. You’re free. Just as wind is to speed. In another dimension we will all eventually reach.
I love you, isn’t enough, you live in me.