in memory (an old one but i like it)

your eyes looked at mine and you just half smiled.
i was embarrassed.
"I'm just not happy. I'm just not happy because my life didn't turn out the way I thought it would. Well, hey, Join the fucking club. I thought i was going to be the starting center fielder for the Boston Red Sox. Life sucks get a fucking helmet."
Laughter coming from 3 out of the 5.
Stern looks from the relatives originally from Mexico.
"Quien esta?"
"Dennis Leary, Tia"
"Ah...si.."
I walked downstairs so I could get a breath of fresh carbon monoxide.
I was used to this scene.
The smell of cigarettes from the depressed visitors and the overworked nurses.
I go back up with coffees in hand for the group.
The elevator is filled with murmors of life and death....
I couldn't stop staring at you.
Maybe it was because I was realizing what I should have realized a while ago.
Or maybe it was because you just couldn't stop heaving.
The nurse came in to check your pick line.
I decided that would be a good time as any to sneak out.
You gave me a hug.
The bear ones that I like.
And I left and disappeared into the crowd of people on Michigan Ave.
I pass people like a ghost in my own world.
Those train rides home were never pleasant ones.
No matter what I listened to.
I could still hear the dry heaving in the background.
I could still smell the hospital.
I could still hear the coughs.
And I could still see your eyes filled with pain staring into mine.


Months later, I can't remember smell, or the sound of your laugh, or hear the coughs...
but I can see those eyes.


The eyes that are burning a hole in my brain.