the day your father died,
i picked you up.
we got drunk,
and we threw beer bottles in the ocean.

-

there, there. now, now.
you know we never had control, right?
just right place, right time
ok birth, ok rhyme
solid rhythm, to ride the waves,
never coming because we beckoned.
but still, it was so much fun,
shouting at the horizon—
believing an ocean would move
at the whim of youthful spirit—

and god, the power of that hope
was magnificent,

just not enough.