I Missed You

The Aviator, Fernand Léger

Toothy grin where have you gone?

To the bottom of some anonymous hole

Under splintering damp wood

Below white flowery wreaths standing

Among the early winter snow?

Ten years now have passed since your death

On a snowy Illinois highway. Red lights

And blue. And yellow headlights, too.

Where were you going? Off to school?

To a boyfriend’s? To some event or another?

Were you off to Mass? Cheerleader practice?

What were the last words you spoke

And to whom did you speak them?

Were they to god as you prepared for death

Or were they tossed off at a gas station,

Inconsequential? “Merry Christmas to you, too!”

Freshman year you invited me to a basketball game

When I was brand new, I didn’t know anybody.

And you knew that and welcomed me.

I’ve had to learn to be appreciative.

And that’s why I’m writing this poem to you,

Because I’ve always appreciated your gesture.

Most folks go their whole lives

Never bringing people in,

But you managed to

Even in your short time.

Mr. Casey, hungover, again late for class,

We sit and wonder what we are to do.

The room smells. Constant spray of flower.

Rolled up pleats to circumvent the rules.

Glass panes hardened to the coming winter.

Ancient blackboard, dusty and fussed.

The clang of barbells in the basement besides.

Wet, moldy steam from the radiator vents.

Some memories, I offer up to you.

The innocence of our shared days.

Long before our corruption.