Thursday, March 03, 2011

First Picture (of a man that lives on)

A man of purest soul died
Left his body weeks before we found it
Alone in his apartment

I live with four people
But don't really
I live and they live
We don't live together

Chad and I lived together
in that small-ish orange North Beach apartment,
around the corner from the Hungry I
and across from the Beat Museum
The window to our living room faced Romolo alley and was broken
We propped it open with a wooden arrow that read "chill igloo 200ft" painted in purple
We'd sit and prop the window and smoke butts out it, looking up and down the alley
Hollering at passer-bys
smiling and laughing
We'd order Chinese, the delivery boy would pass it through that window
I've climbed through it countless times when I'd forget my keys

I moved out
The neighborhood got to me
the noise in the streets
The cat calls
The garbage truck at 4am
The street light always shining in...

I didn't want to leave him there
It was one of the hardest decisions I've ever made
Consuming all my thought
To leave or not
To leave my friend and our home
We made that rundown hole shine!
We lived together.
It was ours...

...and I thought, for years to come I'd be able to visit.
drop in whenever
knock on the window
hear papa bear snoring through the thin walls...
I still have keys.

There's caution tape there now,
and my friend is gone.
And there are things of mine still in that apartment
and my friend is gone
and they won't let me in
and my friend is gone
and I can't stop crying
and my friend is gone
and the windows still broken
and my friend is gone
and I miss him

We hid from the rain.
We propped open the window.
We lived together.

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