Sometimes the fog from the beach
Keeps the sunlight out of my windows
During the weekends
I get to sleep in until
My roommate, a gay doctor,
Starts to crash about the apartment
And your face is there with sad eyes,
Mean words and an air of desperation
In your forgotten voice.
Your face has faded mostly
I am older than I look (and act) now.
The little things you did to make me smile
And the companionship of another beautiful soul
In my life
There are wrinkles staring to form on my hands.
My knuckles are harrier and there is a crease
On my forehead that will not go away.
I once believed that I would never forget
Your beautiful blue eyes.
Now here I am in Los Angeles
In the early afternoon
And I find myself trying too hard
To remember something. Someone.
While I lay in a makeshift bed
Mired in a happy poverty
And listening to sounds of the City