M

M called me from san francisco this sunday, four twenty- some pot smoking holiday for major cities and small enclaves of suburban kids. he kept crying while there were long pauses in our voices. He said he was sitting in delores park, right where my van was when he shared it with me over a few months some time ago when i attempted living in s.f.

he had said on friday he had something important to tell me, i was hating the guess i picked from my mind. He was saying everything but. ' look, M, when you called me on friday you said you had something important to tell me, and i already have a feeling its something really shitty, but i want you to tell me what it is'.

something about a clinic, a test. HIV positive.

i wish i had half of his light.

M i am so sorry. i don't know why good people are always being taken out of this world, it seems. that i ever met you seems now even more special. You are like light which cannot be contained but shines on everything it sees. thank you for your smile, your dancing, your walking with me through the forest of the city, your night conversations, your music and singing, your friendship.