Somewhere

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

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, 

someday.

Maybe you’ll 

go walking 

later, 

take a ride on

your electric bicycle,

or just

watch 

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
of
“Orange Blossom Special,”
or looking out
over your banjo,
with that smile
that felt like
I’d known you
forever.

Soon,

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

became.

Somewhere
you are happy,
and you are smiling.
I know you are,
and I still
wish
that 

you
were here.

-Daniel Coston

April 1, 2015