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

  

I stir

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

Are gone.

 

There are wrinkles staring to form on my hands.

My knuckles are hairier 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

Of Angels.