twenty-three march
five : forty-nine p.m.

suddenly there you are, in that photograph, bearded, smoking, and i didn't mean to stumble across it but there it is in black and white and i wouldn't have recognized you if you hadn't been wearing that flannel shirt and he's standing next to you, drunk, and neither of you have any idea that you'll be gone in a matter of seconds.

listen, there is someone new who reminds me of this boy, but only in the way that he is pensive and quiet and i'll never be able to speak to him, not even to say hello, good morning, how are you, maybe we could carpool sometime, you only live a few blocks away; i've pictured you waiting at the laundromat, sitting in a hard plastic chair, and i've pictured you making strong coffee in a barren apartment, and i really only want to know what makes you so appealingly sad and after that maybe i will not picture you anymore.