The same way
you were no longer
the same after
the accident,
three years after
your death,
you have changed.
You have traded
your eye for a
sand dollar.
I lost all my pogs
and you know I’m
allergic to seafood.
A third of my
life you have been
alive. Now, I cannot
imagine living
through another
third with that double
footed leg you say
makes it easier to scale
the distance from
Baloy to Hida
in a diorama.
You told me years ago,
after I developed my
autoimmune condition,
that you missed the way
we all used to go out
to apply ointment
on the feet of the mountain.
In three lustra,
we will have
changed again.
Let’s keep in touch.