I thought I saw you on the pier in San Francisco
Could have sworn it was you but briefly
It certainly looked like you
When your soft voice gets softer
Like life in the middle of winter
No rush, no imperative
And time tick-ticking away
Bodies fold in on themselves
The distance exerts its will
And faint words become just silence.
But the more resonant song that is you
Warms and moves the ether in complex patterns
Like “the simple act of an oar’s stroke
Putting diamonds in the sea”*
And we remember.
Happy Birthday old friend.
* Donovan Leitch-Sand and FoamObituary
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