BOB

you were a long days dying

my friend

the poetry

of death

bares little

resemblance

to reality

it is dirty

filled with blood

medicine

foul smells

shit

and long

nights

when

it is exhausting

redundant

excruciating

one is afraid

to sleep

afraid of

not waking

of not knowing

where you are

what has happened

where are

the memories

the travels

the experience

is there some

place

where they

are stored

for eternity

your manners

were exquisite

until the end

always asking after others

as you lay there

immobile

at the end

you asked for people

wanting

i think

one last time

to see the smiles

of friends

to hear the

sound of laughter

song

once

before

the sirens call

I was not there

that last moment

goodbyes at

that point seemed

meaningless

you had already gone to

wherever

we go

with your voice

now singing

loudly once more

the songs

you always remembered