A Goodbye

It’s too quiet, I can’t stand it.

We rode in the car one day,

your head bobbing above the seat as we

twisted and turned and whirled

through an eternal wind tunnel.

Your voice.

Like a vacuum sucking up cracker crumbs,

crack crack waaaaaa.

I couldn’t hear you

I wish I could hear you.

Now it’s too quiet I can’t.

Your voice.

Like a cooing baby’s when you wanted to be sweet, I hated it.

I shriveled down two years every time you sprinkled your sweetness on me.

I love it.

Tight hugs, ripped shirts, wet embraces.

You needed that hug.

I need that hug.

You named me after a Disney character who liked honey

and a snack little kids smack between their cheeks,

I imagine

while I write this

those names will fall down on me

from upstairs from your room

It’s too quiet, I can’t stand it.