The Day You Went

The Day You Went

It was an early June morning. They knocked on the door. I let 3 cops inside my apt. Did you know the old lady? Yes, she is my friend. We spend a lot of time together. She’s dead, the young cop told me. I sat down. I could not look at them. How did it happen? There was a fire. She lit a candle and went to sleep.

I imagined you, my friend, stretched out on the bed with the dogs next to you. You were so tired that night you came to my apt. How could I know it would be the last time I’d see you? I wanted to say something to comfort you—you were at the end of your rope—but I didn’t know what. I am sorry I let you go home alone. You had no phone. There was no way for you to call me, call anybody, when you woke up and smelled something funny. I miss your dark brown eyes and the shadows under them. I miss you. Wherever you are in Heaven, I will see you again.

Two of the dogs, both brothers, died with you. One of them was my special friend. The third dog went to the kitchen and stood by an open window. Then animal control took him. The cage, I was told later, was way too small for a German sheperd. He survived it and became the best dog any owner ever had.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Day You Went

It was an early June morning. They knocked on the door. I let 3 cops inside my apt. Did you know the old lady? Yes, she is my friend. We spend a lot of time together. She’s dead, the young cop told me. I sat down. I could not look at them. How did it happen? There was a fire. She lit a candle and went to sleep.

I imagined you, my friend, stretched out on the bed with the dogs next to you. You were so tired that night you came to my apt. How could I know it would be the last time I’d see you? I wanted to say something to comfort you—you were at the end of your rope—but I didn’t know what. I am sorry I let you go home alone. You had no phone. There was no way for you to call me, call anybody, when you woke up and smelled something funny. I miss your dark brown eyes and the shadows under them. I miss you. Wherever you are in Heaven, I will see you again.

Two of the dogs, both brothers, died with you. One of them was my special friend. The third dog went to the kitchen and stood by an open window. Then animal control took him. The cage, I was told later, was way too small for a German sheperd. He survived it and became the best dog any owner ever had.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Day You Went

It was an early June morning. They knocked on the door. I let 3 cops inside my apt. Did you know the old lady? Yes, she is my friend. We spend a lot of time together. She’s dead, the young cop told me. I sat down. I could not look at them. How did it happen? There was a fire. She lit a candle and went to sleep.

I imagined you, my friend, stretched out on the bed with the dogs next to you. You were so tired that night you came to my apt. How could I know it would be the last time I’d see you? I wanted to say something to comfort you—you were at the end of your rope—but I didn’t know what. I am sorry I let you go home alone. You had no phone. There was no way for you to call me, call anybody, when you woke up and smelled something funny. I miss your dark brown eyes and the shadows under them. I miss you. Wherever you are in Heaven, I will see you again.

Two of the dogs, both brothers, died with you. One of them was my special friend. The third dog went to the kitchen and stood by an open window. Then animal control took him. The cage, I was told later, was way too small for a German sheperd. He survived it and became the best dog any owner ever had.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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