I remember car horns and swear words.
I want to say my voice was
drowned out by traffic
but I think you hostaged it
as you ran into the road.
This wasn’t the first time you made me think of you in the past tense.
For a moment
you turned into a Eulogy and a police report.
You turned into dropped grocery bags
and flowers left underneath your picture
but the car carried on,
you carried on
we carried on.
And now I carry on hearing ambulances whenever I think of you.
I keep wondering if someone will ask me to write about you.
If they’ll mention you in the past tense.
I keep hoping that won’t be soon.