while out at a family reunion,
not mine of course
as my family would never
want to commute,
I sat and thought of you
as I drank a can of stella artois
and watched the river and the sky,
the mouth opening up to the lake.
my mouth missing yours,
if only to speak and
the forgetfulness of your face
when I come home
I open up photo albums
and weep into my drink.