David

You're a fast talker,
cigarette bobbing between
your lips.

You walk quickly,
and accompany your emotions
with shaking fingers.

You've no plot to follow,
no story line,
you're rough and sharp, Leo.

I dig your honesty
and want to marry your raw
way of seeing things.

The drinks you made
at my sister's wedding
were the sweetest I've tasted,
despite your tone when you stated
'I'll never be brave enough
to trust love.'

I find it especially funny
because you pick up a guitar
and I fall silent, knowing
I can expect a revelation.

And I think, isn't love just
speaking through an object inanimate,
throwing yourself to the wind?

You've been a brother, a friend,
crossed boundaries that shouldn't
have been made in the first place.

That's what makes you real to me,
that's what takes me away.

So good luck in Kalamazoo,
good luck with your girl.
Good luck with your afternoon shifts,
good luck with your friends.

Don't forget the tracks we laid down
in my father's homemade studio.
Don't forget the hours that went into
what we really meant.

I haven't been quite real since.