The
Day after the Anniversary of Your Death
We
walked through the freezing cold,
that
blew up 75th street,
straight
from the estuary
and
through the fabric of our jackets,
your
music blasting from
an
ear bud one in each of our ears
the
way young lovers do
not
old lovers like we are now.
There
was caterwauling
and
I thought to myself,
we
are going to wake up
all
the old people on the street
because
I can’t carry a tune.
You
were doing great though, you always do,
but
you weren’t worried about the others.
We
always have to hear them, you remind me,
and
besides, it was thirty years ago,
thirty
years and one day
since
Lennon was killed.
Tomorrow
we’ll walk past the gates of the Dakota,
not
really stopping by the guard,
but
lingering just a bit to look down that driveway.
You
will tell me that John asked to walk in. He stopped the driver.
There
will be no singing tomorrow.
But
tonight, we are still on this street,
with
music in our ears
his
music
and
the hope of warmth
if
we can ever make it out of this cold
and
to the front door.
Ally Malinenko is the author of The Wanting Bone (Six Gallery
Press). Her second book of poems entitled Crashing to Earth is
forthcoming from Tainted Coffee Press. She currently lives in the part
of Brooklyn the tour buses don't come to and rambles on and on over at allymalinenko.com
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