Filet Mignon

 
There are photos
everywhere
framed in walnut
you
laughing with your
best friend, a cigarette
dangles from
your mouth
shy of
falling into
gin you
embraced those
moments, I know

Another photo
your arm rests
on mom’s shoulders
tugging her hair,
I think
though I wasn’t there
or anywhere then
both of you poised
on long tree
branches, waiting
for the shutter to
harness a whisper

my favorite photo
is of you with
your grandson,
drawing out plans
for a dog house,
or deck, or
putting up shelves,
offering his first beer ever,
while barbecuing
filet minion
that only you have
perfected, of course

I stop myself before I
ruminate on this
last one
knowing this pain
far too well
knowing
this photo I want
of you framed
In my mind is
not here in my
home

or anywhere

knowing that all
I have now is these
slow fading photos
and this last moment
happens after
these moments
stop happening

too early, and
too long ago.