.
I remember
The light through the windows
Strangely low to the ground
On the third floor
As he plodded along
Much smaller
But big enough
To make a sound
That prevented the loneliness
Of a first apartment
With low windows
And New England light
I remember the streams of warm sunlight
That bathed the hard wood
And the creature
Who pounced when someone moved
(Even when we didn’t)
The feel is so strong
And it hasn’t gone
Although you have
Left this apartment
With the large glass doors
And Tampa light
.
for joel
we miss your buddha soul (and belly) so much
- cary