Howard Firkin
I want to dance, to be first on the floor,
I want to see you smile,
I want to make you join me for a while,
but you’re not looking anymore.

I want to show you lines you’ve read before
and watch you roll your eyes
as each new poem causes no surprise,
but you’re not looking anymore.

I want those finger snap decisions you’re
so good at living by.
I want to see things your way, or goodbye;
but you’re not looking anymore.

I want the conversations I’ve paid for
in time and feeling ill.
I want to hear your voice and never will.
You’re gone. And I’m not anymore.