beach 6, pt ii

there was a letter i wrote
and destroyed for you
the contents escape me
but they were probably a declaration
of love with a strong dramatic flair
the destruction dramatic as well
but i suppose destruction usually is

i wonder what you felt that day
at the edge of the water
when i took your picture looking out
and slipped a rock into my pocket
which now lives on my bookshelf
with other stolen pieces of your state

that day’s long enough gone that
i can’t remember specific words
just gloomy skies and quiet
and a lake so deceptively calm
i would not have guessed
its capacity for sinister whispers

tonight in the car we got a call
a girl in our community hanged herself
most of us hadn’t seen her
since she moved back from pennsylvania
but the fallout will be huge and terrible
dex is on the couch smoking in silence
staring upwards into unreality

he says it’s weird knowing someone
who actually went through with it
knowing so many people
who think about it
or talk about it
or try, a little
but don’t

all those artists we love who died
are more like historical figures
true grief has a less heroic flavor
than the distant loss of a person
who gave you a gift, not personally
but collectively

the letter, i tore it up and hid the pieces
the day you said that hurtful thing
angry that it sat unread for so long
and that the words could leave your lips
as easily as paper flowers rip
it’s a regret, small but necessary
given a second chance, i would not
unsay or destroy any words
i ever meant to offer you

and maybe it felt like that
for you, that day at the lake
every time we speak i recognize
that i almost didn’t get to know you
thank you for continuing to hold on