“Is David There?”

I get a call
Every year or two
I guess it’s around the holidays
Thanksgiving
Christmas
I don’t know…
Asking, “Is David There?”

I usually get angry,
Hang up…
Yell something at him…
Or slam the phone down.
“Why are you calling?”

This time it’s different.
I explain…
“David died a long time ago”
“What was it?”
“A heart attack.”
“When was it?”
“About a year before Bill died.”
“When was that, in ‘84 or something?”
“It was in ‘93.”

“I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok.
It’s just sad.
You call me just about every year or so.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s just sad, that’s all.”
“Goodbye.”
“Just take care of yourself.”

It was nineteen years ago now,
My brother’s lover died.
And his friend, David’s friend, still calls,
Asking for him.

Peter:

A moving story, beautifully told in a simple, elegant style. Reminiscent of the clarity in Hemmingway's prose. Well done.

Joe