Roads Not Traveled

The magnitude of a life
still misses me
who knows death
only in the solemnity
of a bunch of school kids
playing at being adults
an earnestness that stinks
of ill-fitting suits
brought forth from mothballs
subjected to funerary rain

He was already a specter
a birthday party friend
the only one left
from that god fearing town
that godless me
was already forgetting
their names
and sins against me
competing with what grief
I couldn’t seem to find

My memory won’t go there
won’t wind it’s way
to a time now lost
forcefully forsaken
save a face and a name
a lonesome half hillock
at an intersection
on the road between nowheres
where he pulled out
into what comes next

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