There are crowd sounds in the other room.As we drink, your boot looks
right at home on the bar rail
and you smell like
bourbon and good cigars.
Your hat brim dips
and that prophetic beard
flashes when you speak.
It is good to see you again,
to listen as your
stories weave together
classmates, parishioners
and friends.
We talk about everything
and nothing.
The crowd roars in the other room;
they strike the first electric chords.
I say, "Hey, Karl, lets go-
take a look at the band.
The music has started."
I say it just like that, my friend,
just like that.
And an instant later,
you are gone.
