Untitled: For Daniel

Friend,

I dreamt of you last night,

We are walking on a boardwalk,

The night ski is just peaking over the horizon,

Your mouth is moving to words that I can’t understand

Or perhaps I have chosen not to hear?

Strange garbled sounds emit from your lips

And I am trying to make sense of it all,

Friend,

These days stretch across a Parish sunset,

The kind that you wish for summer to arrive,

Yet these days come too soon,

You tell us that Death has visited your doorstep again

And you are refusing to answer it,

I tell you that

Garland of garlic and silver crosses nailed across the A frame will only anger Death

Not because this trickery will work but because mixing

Superstitions in hopes to keep Death at bay

is a little like

hitting the fast foward button on the VCR,

I am telling you,

There is no accurate outcome for life’s events

No display reading to ensure proper functions,

As I am telling you this,

I suspect you already know because you

smile and shrug your shoulders,

Perhaps it is I that am need of reassurance,

Always throw in an extra spoonful of salt

to rub in wounds,

Not to savor the pain,

but to rejoice in the healing.