The old Beatles tribute to black music filled my head this last of the last few days, a not-so-polite wish I need to keep contained, as others express their well-wishes for her that she might arrive in a better place than the one she leaves and where we still reside, though I wonder how many of those who attend this goodbye party hear the same Beatles song in their hears, perhaps tender regrets for having not gotten it before she leaves, as they wonder if they will ever get the chance again, doing it anywhere, in the road or not, which only inspires in me the green-eyed monster as I imagine the whole scene, wondering what it felt like with those who actually did it, in the road or not, as if I peer through her window at them, as traffic roars down the street where she lives, the coming and going, the constant moan of it, filling up the space around us, we doing it wherever we please for as often as possible, all in my head, eyes closed or not
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