There was that day

the Japanese plums exploded

on the sidewalk, purple stains

dancing backwards and forwards

in May

the sun always falls through the trees

differently, shadowing the restless robins

dipping their beaks into sewage water

but that was just the day that I remember

you were two days gone

in a week I would struggle to find your name

among newspaper clippings

on prom photographs

only to ask the girl who knew better

than to turn down dates with strangers

strange how your face comes up in conversation

I may dream the sound of your hands

falling across several strings, your music

tied to rooms. I might watch the tape again

and see what I never saw before about your eyes

how they found forgiveness in the scent of gunpowder

in a burst of smoke echoing your name in the hallway

We just having met

on less than a dozen occasions

fell silent

your face forever like a diamond in the sky

up above the world so high

I've wished this Tuesday back in time

and like children caught in nursery rhymes

I've created anniversaries for my amusement

and feigned some sense of understanding about shotguns

and my face.