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Click hereI was asleep
in Dallas
when you killed yourself
in Texarkana.
Almost called you
before I went to bed. Wanted
to hear your voice, let you know
I was thinking
about you. Would I have
finally asked you
to marry me? The next night,
your twin sister answered
the phone, told me what happened.
Cocaine, ambulance,
coma, flatline. You became
a source of corneas and kidneys
for waiting doctors.
They didn't know
that you grinned
like a gleeful pirate or where
you were ticklish.
If you've a long memory, you might remember this poem from five or six years ago. Went through a phase when I didn't much like any of the poetry I'd written had took it all down. Back now.