This is the third summer since you left me with nothing but a playlist to remember you by & I still haven’t listened past the first song. Your anniversary approached & I thought I saw your face in a passing car, but you’re dead. Maybe when you played “The Reason,” it cut through the night like a siren—the guitar riding out the speakers while you sat in your still-running parked car & the Oxycontin kicked in. I turned up my radio dial while driving, let And so I have to say before I go, that I just want you to know, I’ve found a reason to be, trickle out & I don’t sing along, only take jagged breaths. When I want to feel closer to you, I lie down in the middle of the road at 2AM, streetlights splayed across me, June bugs crawling towards my warmth. They flip onto their backs, wiry legs scrambling towards heaven, moving fast until their bitter end. I gingerly pick them up, rise to my feet & carry them to the grass. Turning away, I tell myself I did enough, that they will walk on their own again.
