After midnight, I think of him
thrashing on the ground
and I long for him to go
without farewell
without a plan.
I wish him to step into the plane
and sit his tall self into a wide chair
by the window and watch
the bay disappear
under the clouds
and watch the clouds
form a bed
just for him.
I wish him to drink a cold beer
on his way to that other realm
where there is only one
season and it is spring,
where there are only arrivals
no departures,
where he will be whole again.
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