I think they buried him in Colusa

For the ones still standing:

I never liked you

But here in the grass you’re soft

Holding folded flags

---

I want to say I spent every moment

celebrating with him.

The phone calls went on for hours,

talks on the edge of epiphanic.

-

I wish I could imagine how he stood

on the other end of the line,

or how he spent his day.

-

But I don’t know his middle name.

-

He started and ended in a far place.

Every part of him, a revelation,

a house I didn’t know had been built

or renovated.

-

What did I say to him last?

-

Eleven years ages the carpet and blinds

and suddenly you’re surprised

that he collected mystery novels.

-

The hummingbird on the gravesite

could have been a flower or a cross

and I would have still wondered

-

how I missed so much.