looks like sleep but…
O2 mask doesn’t hide,
belies what’s true.
paint the nails, slick the hairs,
still for me you’re not there
where you generated grins -
ear to ear perhaps you’ll hear -
grins so slyly filled with teeth;
some even yours we’d joke.
i stroke your stroked head,
hold your cooling hand,
massage forearms hard
from hammers and saws,
all my way, viejo amigo,
to say, adios;
saw you when...
hasta luego.
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