An Uncomfortable Projection (High Flying Bird)
When empathy replaces recall, I imagine you
On a gritty floor with empty syringe, scarlet blood,
And a head wound exposed on cold white stone.
Like a vision of abstract death, an overdose in shadow,
With a hint of luster. That little cross of gold
Illuminates vague scenes with the gloss of known history.
Back then, we embraced risk and made unwise choices
Despite cautious words from our alternate selves;
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful,” is all I heard you say.
Back then, I thought of myself as your keeper.
You would vanish by day, reappear at night,
Until finally, you moved away for good.
And now, this sanguine and fading image of you
Is eclipsed by that which I most fear to be true.