JOHN

You dropped to 

the kitchen floor

and once again

no one could

save you, not even

the wife you kept

in the closet with 

those useless suits.

you used to say

don't hold back

give it to me

straight

then you would

lie to us with what

was left of your 

tongue. At the

memorial, those 

of us who were loyal

and loved you

gathered at your

stone; we passed 

around the flask,

swallowed each 

burning drop

of the borrowed whiskey

as if it was Communion. 

Smiling, we saved 

the last for you, and poured 

a hit right into the vase 

with the flowers. Later, 

we told stories 

as we watched the red, 

annotated balloons 

lift into the sky.

You know John, 

I'll give it to you 

straight one last time: 

we said goodbye

as best we could.