the candle flickering
the shadows
on the wall
tonight
bring back a memory
of you dancing
in candlelight
in that house
in Cleveland
the dog curled up
on the shag rug
asleep
the only witness
me
not so drunk
not to know
that life
would never be
any better
than this
you dancing
in candlelight
for me
memory
4am in Moda: what lingers still: for JEP
here, old friend
5000 miles and more away
you appear still
scotch whiskey
in a glass
ice cubes
bumping shoulders
your deadpan delivery
pinball and burritos at 3am
in bars 3000 miles apart
those Texans you antagonized
mercilessly
tears amid the laughter
the mischief in your eyes
this is what
lingers still
your ghost refusing
to fade into the darkness
one more shot
for to you
to comfort us
both
and to keep the wolves
at bay
while you wait
patiently
for me
to join you
in that honky-tonk bar
in the sky
in the darkness: for Jason
when the phone calls
stop
and you’re alone
in the darkness
what voices
do you hear
what faces
float by
in memory
to comfort
to haunt
then
even three fingers of whiskey
there were days
when the sun shone
brightly & true
before night fell
& they faded
into fragments
of faulty memory
of faces
you would rather forget
even three fingers
of whiskey
can’t erase
all the debris left
of your love
taking the lead from Jia Dao’s Inn at Niyang
in sorrow
they fade
those old friends
of mine
into the mist
of receding time
and I here stranded
in the present
straining to see
their faces
aching to hear
their voices
before I too
fade away
lost to those
I leave behind
your words
didn’t quite catch
your words
that night
as you woke me
from my slumber
on the couch
the record still turning
on the turntable
the dog looking up
as I struggled
to my feet
my mind a haze
your words lost
like water
slipping through my fingers
like you
fading gradually
into the night
those words
still nagging
my memory
decades later
ten thousand miles
away
old pictures
there you stand
bent over slightly
your hands
on the dog’s neck
you both looking
at me
camera in hand
taking this picture
which now sits
on a bookshelf
in my den
a stick lying
at the dog’s paws
that I
most likely
use for play
with him
both of you gone
relegated to a memory
of a time
when we were young
and not yet wise
to how it would
eventually end
he to ashes
in an urn
on my desk
and you
lost to time
and old pictures
and me
with this ache
in my heart
still
never so clear
the lie
that one tells oneself
that whiskey
helps one forget
is never so clear
to me
as it is
tonight
adding to a line from Wang An-shih: the past traced in thought
the past
traced in thought
and etched
as in stone
in our minds
impossible to forget
yet painful at times
to remember
as we fumble forward
ever again
oh how brief
the ice melts
in the glass
of Black Bush
and my mind
like the ice
dissolves
into memories
of shared bottles
of old friends
of time past
and oh how brief
ice lasts
in a glass
Leonard Durso 