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
Writers Garage L.A. 