What do you say
on the loss of a child?
We sat in the lounge
drinking a vile potion
from a hollowed pineapple,
giggling insanely
for no reason.
We wandered the tunnels
faces painted,
clowns in bedlam.
We lay together
on a mattress
on the floor and listened
to Aqualung
my arms around you
both, but sleep
came slowly and we talked
until night ran from
the encroaching sun.

I can feel her soft blond hair
and see her smile
as we walked
hand in hand in hand
along the abandoned
railbed, dreaming
of what might be.
As I struggled with sleep
and she with a new day
I can still hear the tape end
snapping at the end
of the ever spinning reel
wanting only to hold your hand.

First Appeared in RE:AL The Journal of Liberal Arts, Vol. 23, No. 2, Fall 1998.