in august, we mourn pinecones

[yachiru]

you are forgiven-I
say this not as a priest
you were never fond of those anyway
maybe-you’d gotten into the big black book
at the end-or at least you’d pretend
in front of them
you probably don’t want it
or wouldn’t if I’d asked you-never
thought you’d ever done anything wrong
maybe memory was kinder to you
easier to forget small cruelty
small neglect-all rounded into
blue into yellow into red-shaky
ground-did they tell you that?
my house tilts-blame the
contractor-easier to think
of you as garbage-flush
pray-easier to think I wouldn’t
miss you-wouldn’t pick up
random old women in bars-call
my voicemail-delete your messages
then undelete them-can’t hear
your voice in my head anymore
facebook keeps reminding me of our friendship anniversary
and I all I can remember is you-turning
your music up so loud-so loud
the neighbors called red and blue-so loud
I remember every band you liked-every album
cover of boys with long hair teased artfully
I remember you were a child-just
like me