Remains

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He said people of our generation can’t handle getting old

this was days after the suicides

of two figures we  all thought we knew

i watched the way he walked down the street

a loping, arguably elegant gait

baggy pants

assertive strides

long arms swinging

an impatient walk

an athlete’s walk

i’d known that walk for thirty years

and i started to weep behind my glasses

because we once were young lovers

exploring L.A.

exploring each other

and we once were married for years and years

and we once made those gorgeous children

and because now we are on our way

to collect my mother’s remains:

salt and minerals

paper, ash, and bone

and i don’t have to walk alone

 

 

 

 

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