My first art show was in an old army base.
I once saw a ghost there.
Then clustered concrete until I had enough.
It was an easy life to leave behind.
Trading shifts and twisting hieroglyphs.
Dreaming away the December chills.
You showed me a life I failed to see.
Where the forest stretches over train track bridges.
Where 70 acre outskirts are home, to barracks
and munitions from Civil War to WW2.
Our houses went dim in the coming weeks,
as leaves burned away beneath. Undeniable.
With railroad silence. Since the day you’ve been gone.
150 years of military presence.
Then my high school. One of them.
And the place of my last photo, of you.
For a second, I thought you were with me.
Like I was standing in front of an old friend.
In a way, I was. Hollowed out. Boarded up.
Only a glimmer of what we both used to be.
A strange place this is now.
It’s hard to stay for long,
but my body wasn’t ready to leave.
I knew our time had ended. Paralyzed.
I left before the sight of you formed.
I stayed until your memory faded.
Here. At the place I will always be
searching for new memories, of you.