It is time to rename another school
After another crooked politician,
I’m not ready for it
To trek to where I know
She’ll be waiting
Clutching her camera
Just as I clutch mine
I somehow know
(or suspect or assume
Or come to believe)
This will be the last time
I will ever get to see
Her in the flesh,
Feeling the earth move
Under our feet
Creating a rent
In the fabric
Of our existence
Too wide to cross
If we ever ached to
This world-altering event
This last gasp before
The universe falls
Into some kind of
Cosmic abyss,
Drawing me into that space
Of “what if”
I can never relive,
I feel the change,
A time when
All things finally
Conclude,
For good or ill,
Not fair
Not correct,
Yet near,
That essential truth
She always wanted to
Get down to,
The marrow of,
The bone and sinew,
These things,
These changes,
Always needing
A ceremony to make them seem right
And proper,
When neither is the case.
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