7.9.17

Haunting, your voice,

sadder

than it’s ever been,

haunted,

flushed away in the riptide of distance,

far away & miserable,

faint, your sad sad voice,

Mother. How I miss

when you were joyful, and

cringe that you won’t be

again.

.

.

mired in tragedy unknowable.

Written at 9:29 at night, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA.