Remembering a friend...

Amber

We met
at Hardee’s on the turnpike
in matching
turquoise and magenta
visors and t-shirts.
We made
greasy work
fun.

We partied
in country fields.
I “weezed the juice”
from the slushy machine.
You kissed Cheryl
on the cheek.
The Kwik Shop clerk
called you lesbos.
We just laughed
and drove away.

Remember?

We cruised dirt roads,
smoked joints and learned
to fly
without wings.
We listened to cows
calling from the meadows
on dark, starry
summer nights.

You came to visit,
late September.
We got drunk
and stole pumpkins
at midnight.



***


I remember
your memorial;
pictures of you
choosing your wedding gown,
your short brown hair
in a crazy spike,
your smile was
ear to ear.


They dressed you
in pajamas;
stuffed animals
from your childhood
looked on
through glass eyes.
Jimmy Buffet played quietly.
Your purple bruises
revealed their truth
through the make-up.

I can still picture you:
telling a shocking story
just to freak me out
and then admitting
it wasn’t true…
your wacky sense of humor
and child-like laughter.
Your eyes always
crinkled at the corners
when you smiled.