You were driving. I was not present.
I watched the falling sun
Attach itself to you.

As if it knew

Of course there are more.
There are other men who have
Held my back.

Do you know that
When you are alive, there is
No other light? There are only questions

I have a recurring fantasy of sitting with
my father and telling him
‘I lost that one.’

The important one

In the fantasy, he says,
‘It’s okay,’ and holds me
The way older people do when
they tell younger people who are hurt
‘You have time,’ while still acknowledging
the nature of loss.

I do not listen

I could write sonnets to you

I could keep
Watching scenes
That do not exist