Written in honor and memory of friend and colleague Steven Kolberg, whose battle with cancer and and dance with life ended today.
We drove to that strange state
packed tight in the car and buckled in
with greeting cards and a somber air.
There in the back yard,
I was surprised that he could see me,
and that he looked like himself
and that the lawn was lush green with life
It had the strange feel of a graduation party combined with a wake:
An uncle here, a high school friend there,
“Amy says hi” and “What’s your favorite beer these days?”
But there was a gurney on the yard with a thick body bag over it,
which turned out to be a kayak but oh my god, the thought!
And there was his comment about not being able to taste sugar or feel temperature or read anymore.
And there was a mountain of pill bottles just across the counter from the spread of submarine sandwiches and brownie platters and veggie dip.
We told stories,
and paused awkwardly because what do you say?
This is his last party. Continue reading “Road to Rhode Island”