Wednesday, April 1, 2015


you are laughing.
I know you are.
I see you there,
occasionally glancing
at me, 
sharing that same
between us
that we 

You are
putting on 
your coat,
and jumping into
your pickup truck
to go to 
that great greasy spoon,
then come back home
just in time
for a nap.
You only smoke
when you’ve walked away
from me, 
because you don’t
want me to do the same, 
Maybe you’ll 
go walking 
take a ride on
your electric bicycle,
or just
the ballgame.

You are
walking the golf course,
cursing over
your previous shot.
I always smiled
when you
referred to it
as “gawfing”,
but you still said it, 
and I still smiled.
The next morning, 
you’ll sit out by the lake,
and I’ll see you
from a distance,
and I’ll wonder
what you goes through
your mind
as the day passes.

You are
playing guitar
like you just 
learned to play,
playing piano
like you never
wanted it to end.
Tuning your fiddle
for one more pass
“Orange Blossom Special,”
or looking out
over your banjo,
with that smile
that felt like
I’d known you

you will be
looking over family photos,
and taking one of me
as I sit 
in your back seat.
Telling me stories
of your heydays in Michigan,
or loaning me
that Buster Keaton video
you always loved. 
Later on,
as we have
one more laugh
over the friends
we used
to hang out with,
you’ll ride your motorcycle
into the evening sun,
looking out over
the places that
we used to play.
And I will
watch you
from a distance,
reflecting on 
what I knew,
who we knew,
and who
we all

you are happy,
and you are smiling.
I know you are,
and I still
were here.

-Daniel Coston
April 1, 2015 

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