one thousand and ninety five days ago, you kicked me in the ass and left the planet and handed me the keys to my cage. forty days later I stood in the sea and screamed my goodbyes.
i walked through the walls of newspaper clippings, broken doors and dirty mystery knowing i was not there and that i would have to find a way of retrieval after all of this was over.
all of this strange sickness and bracing investigation of hypodermic needles, pasco county sherrifs, stolen cars, lost cats, a criminal caretaker, a Russian wife, women's rights literature and sociopathic perfume lingering in the fabric of this confused circus. you, so frail and viscious, conversing with shadows and suspects, trying desperately to assert your final will against the bone wracking pain and swift rushing of death. even your passing evoked such violence and fury.
hanging now in a thin grey frame of bones, the fear in you persists in missile launching, with such surprising accuracy. you leave with the final words splitting from your tongue like acid, seran gas, napalm.....
breaking love against your wisp of a thigh with a force of a freight train.
there is no time to repair the damage before you go. there is no possibility to repair the damage even if you stayed.
we gathered in this crevice of the universe that housed the terrors, curled against each other and dreamed you on your journey, burned the fire through the night and told a handful of broken stories around the scattered photographs of everything that boiled down to your life here, read your secret love letters and silently sang our farewells. the folded paper still travels with me and i still struggle to believe it and i still live with the stone in my heart that, even in this last opportunity, it was all about you and nothing about me; in some ways, the final chance to bear down with the heel of your boot and grind those broken shards of glass into nothing but dust. there is so much sorrow for a never was and never will be.
and this story is not a story about a ghost. you are gone and gone forever, but for the indelible fingerprints of your crimes. you are as much substance as a memory and no more; dissolved and submerged like a grain of salt in an infinite sea. a grain, enormously full of sadness and sorrow and fear. of you and me, there is only me, emerging more, moment to moment, from the impossible and terrible story of you.
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