for Thomas Lux
I look through every box
crammed with my son’s old baby
pictures, family trips, soccer teams
all I want is to find that photo
of you, there were a few, that time
in Boston when you and others
came to visit, Charles Hotel, early
‘80s, you were wearing that dumb
earring, even now from the beyond
you’d call it dumb, you who were once
so young, young until the day
you were no longer. The diamond
stud must have seemed cool.
I wanted to find that photo, you
laughing, sitting on the couch
we’d all been drinking, it was fun,
the only poetry was in our
hearts, this was just a visit, you were
no longer my teacher, now a friend
from the past. You called me fruitcake
and dummy so I knew you still
cared, me your student from long ago.
I wanted that picture to show the world
you being silly we were probably telling bad taste jokes all of us stupid, all of us
together on the couch.