Grandson, these tears you see would be
for the picnic by the lake that autumn
when we friends since childhood
fell in love at the same time
The air was cool but not yet cold,
empty and bright through the leaves
Scattered in couples, we stood kissing until
our teeth hurt, arms strung over our lover’s hips
Even at a distance from the others I could hear
the uncut laughter of our youth
You will not know about a day like that day
until you have come to a day
when those you have loved
have gone before you and you sit alone
crying to a boy about how alone you are
I cry easy now at the sounds
of redwings calling to their mates,
see the skin of our faces
tight and smooth as new melons,
the sharpened edges of our eyes
Grandson, we smoked and drank and laughed,
played gin rummy until sunrise
The next afternoon at Nina’s house
we cooked huevos rancheros, swigged tequila,
fell asleep on each others laps, woke in the dark
to the scent of rain through the screens,
tripping over arms and legs and tumbled chairs
I hear our confused voices in that early morning
passing in the hall in sandals between bedrooms,
scuffling so not to tumble off wooden front porch steps,
the farewells we mumbled easing each other
into vintage cars like the old do