Four years ago this afternoon, I sat on a bench overlooking this view
and heard that my friend was gone.
Four years – a lifetime – a matter of minutes
And not a day goes by that I don’t have trouble believing it
don’t wish it had all been a dream
don’t imagine I could still talk to you
call you up and shoot the shit
drop by your house and crack a bottle open, put my feet up, and kick back as all the old stories wash over us —
take you out for a drink, play cards until we got silly and made some new stories.
Four years ago.