GFT Press  A Philanthropic Literary And Art Press  

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Ani Keaten

 

N.A.M.I

 

you

were a

cincinnati

streetlight I ran

into while trying to

navigate a new corporate

world. you played a bongo

on your patio deck

and told me

you

couldn’t dance.

so I showed you the

steps and frame of a waltz

in my living room. with friends,

you showed me downtown,

offered me a mountain

dew, and we walked

in dripping parks,

green, humid.

you

weren’t ready

for a relationship,

but you kissed my

cheek in the diamond

of the empty baseball field

near my house, and

again on the front

steps, in the

sunshine.

you

would call

sometimes, years

later, to see how things

were going and tell me you

weren’t so good yourself. so

you can imagine my shock

when I hadn’t heard from

you in a while, and I 

looked you up and

saw an obituary

and a place for

donations

in lieu of

flowers

for you.