*

*

Where

                  did he go,

that busy, silly man

with the terrible sense of humor?

Look into his eyes

dull, fogged windows.

*

Where did he go

the fount of Irish blarney,

trim of leg but lacking rhythm?

Look at him now, silent

wheelchair bound.

*

Where did he go,

my companion on Mexican highways,

the agreeable explorer?

Take his hands, warm and dry.

Hug the solid body of a person lost.

Miss him.

Love him.

Hold his truth and goodness

for him.