in memoriam

for kendall

the single girl has no
better friend than the gay man, and you
were mine, the perfect
relationship, when I needed it
most

there were weekend
trips to k.c., you'd take
me to expensive restaurants
and make fun of men
who hit on me, like
the waiter whose hand brushed
mine, I thought you'd fall off
your chair

late one night, banging on my door,
you dumped six bags of new clothes
at my feet and demanded
a fashion show, letting me keep
it all

no one thought to tell me
you were gone,
mentioned, as an afterthought,
by a mutual acquaintance
who thought I already knew

we weren't speaking--
hadn't in years--

although I only slept
with one married man,
while you slept with dozens,
it was fall-out from my love-life
that ended us

you and he would
later shake hands,
& in that same spirit,
you sent me a message
asking if we could start over,

you possessed a fiercely
indelicate sensibility
(it was what I loved about you)
a brutal humor that left nothing unsaid

afraid that you'd ruin
the new me I pretended to be,
remind me of a past I was desperate to forget,
I hit delete instead of reply

I heard your worried co-workers
sent the police to your house,
they found that you
had died, perfectly,
in your sleep

funny how you never mentioned
that bad heart, or maybe I
wasn't paying attention
when you did

I wish it mattered
that the forgiveness
I withheld then
is in these
lines written now,

what I missed
because I didn't hit reply