Elephant Jokes, Tequila Shots.

To M and to S, who left. I miss you already.

And if there really is
A heart of the matter,
Then it is broken along the same lines
That all hearts break.
Along your loss,
Along the vital absences
Of your warming laughs,
Along the quickening pulses
Of our shared jokes,
Along the stimulating togetherness
Of alchohol.

And if there really is
A point to this poem,
Then it is lost along the same way
That all points are lost.
Along my daily latte,
Along the friendly frenzy
Of our nightly dances,
Along the orange restaurants
Of our favourite custom,
Along the way of your days here
That seemed so short.

***

And a piece of this poem by Alexander McCall Smith, which seems to have been written for this moment.

But what breaks the heart the most, I think,
Is the knowledge that what we have
We all must lose; I don't much care for denial,
But if pressed to say goodbye, that final word
On which even the strongest can stumble,
I am not above pretending
That the party continues elsewhere,
With a guest list that's mostly the same,
And every bit as satisfactory;
That what we think are ends are really adjournments,
An entr'acte, an interval, not real goodbyes;
And perhaps they are, dear friends, perhaps they are.

-Alexander McCall Smith
"The World According to Bertie"

***