I Thought I Saw You Outside Fourth Coast

Which reminds me,
I want to run down the hall

completely naked, my face painted
like a tiger or a mime
who just threw up all over himself,
pieces of that morning's
newspaper sagging out of the corner

of my eye like a tear, which
is not to say that I have been crying,

although sometimes I do pretend
that I have been weeping,
usually in a corner or a crowded
subway car, nostrils flaring
like the sun, knuckles white from

prayer done right,
eyes closed and head bowed

into some stranger's lap, who
just happens to be
talking loudly on her cellphone to you,
you who have been
dead for months, but sometimes

I forget just how many
people I have actually met, how

many times I have successfully choked on
cheap whiskey, how
many hours I have spent sleeping
in strange houses,
but one thing that I will never forget

is my brother's birthday
last year, the day you were found

hanging from a tree branch, a rope
wound around your neck,
raindrops sliding softly down your face,
leaving only a note
on the seat of your car that read

I love you all