death and love

there is a little photograph framed in tinfoil
it's Clarence Amos gardener Jr
he lived with me on oak st until i kicked him out for masturbating in the living room
or something like that
and threw a stack of Cd's at his head
luckily it missed cause i love the guy

i met him at the cafe Montreal
i was a waitress and he played guitar
didn't really have a home but loved the blues

he melted his buttons in my oven once
trying to dry his pants
after a long walk about during the winter
he walked a lot and loudly greeted pretty much anyone who passed by

Suzanne killed herself last Tuesday
after years of mental illness
struggling to beat the dragons and demons

I'm sure it was her that made the door drift open at the top of the service

i asked:
are you here Suzanne
and i hear yes
of course she was

eggnog logs dogs crackers and Hawaiian shirts
cat licking milk from a heart shaped plate
hot dates sleeping on the dryer
crying and crying nodding head
Irish accent
the lesbian minister
i liked her style

who brought open her palms just like in the pictures
summoning rays of intelligence divinity solar beams of magic
tragic loss

beards hand washing
correspondence with a girl in France
the last dance Hawaiian loveliness a kiss
last dance headbangers no friends no matter
fabric and fake flowers
burning my foot on the iron and soaking it in the shower
or the sink
and the lost babies

it's Christmastime
sweaters fire logs dogs on the bed
toques and sleds
and curled up in bed
with ice bags

oranges wrapped in paper

i miss her laugh