"EULOGY"

[Another beautiful lyric from L.E. Leone—enjoy!]

EULOGY


He used to be alive, and now
Now: this. Don’t look!
Close your eyes. Some of you
Gathered here may remember how
He
Stirred the molecules in the air he walked through
Or used
words
to convey meaning.
Yes, I loved him too, and it’s hard
                  to imagine
                  the word “paisley,” for example,
                  dying with him. The way
                  that he said “paisley”—and so
                  many other words.
So many words, indeed, that it could be said that he
                  knew a language. That’s saying something!

The way that he reached into his pockets
                  whenever he needed a thing that he kept in his pockets.
Keys. His wallet. Loose change.
Lip balm. Or, in earlier times, perhaps,
A comb or condom. All of these things he touched,
                  as he touched our lives.

Sometimes he said, “What time is it?”
Once, I remember, we passed
                  each other on the street. “How are you?”
                  he said. We all
Probably, have had similar encounters.
                  Have a nice day.
                  I take it black.
                  Goodnight.
                  There’s room for one more.

Other examples are of shirts he wore,
Things he read on the toilet and how
                  exactly
The bathroom smelled afterwards.
What was for dinner? (lunch? breakfast?)
Where he sat on the bus.
Cookbooks he looked at.
A mattress on which he left an
                  imprint, changed the nature of the springs
Empty shaving cream bottles he threw away.
                  (recycled?)

Or how about the little lines and specks
    that moved routinely across his eyeballs?
And who among us will ever see a shoe
    string without reflecting
    that his shoes had shoe strings.
Which he tied
                  every
                                    single
                                                      day.

Yes, my friends,  his friends,
Life is a gift, it is clear because he made it clear to us, and death
                  is the ribbon.
He’s dead. You can open your eyes now.

Our friend is a ribbon.

L.E. Leone
© 2011