Elegy for Terrence Tart
I see you now
only in memories of burnt
tire tracks and unshaven mugs
you are my favorite rusty thought
I can still smell your
Marlboros and Gojo soap
salted with oil and greasy shirts
I smell auto body shops at night
To hear your rumbly chortle
muffled by tar inside your ribs
would be the whitest noise
call me Cindy Lou Who, please
The taste of a secret Corona lime
snuck past mom’s and grandma’s eyes
rejoices still on my tongue, 11 years past
only the lime, Ambs. No sips.
I feel your tree-branch stubble still
planted on my widow’s peak
when you kissed me goodbye
I love you, Gootdegoot
11 years of hush